Florian the Innocent
by LadyBijou
Summary: A collection of short stories surrounding Florian and his experience with the other characters. Obviously spoilers since some will be post ToA.
1. The Innocent One

This is a collection of one shots about Florian and his experiences with the other characters. Needless to say, spoilers abound since some of it will have to do with post ToA. None of this goes in a particular order and there will be very little continuity since it's not really meant to flow together. Just some excerpts from Florian's life. Honestly, I was just inspired and threw this together without proof reading. May be revised later if I feel like it.

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**_*~The Innocent One~*_**

Why did he go with them?

He had nowhere else to go.

Were they good people?

They seemed kind. Kinder than those before.

What is kindness?

He wasn't entirely sure.

The boy's dark green eyes surveyed the stuffy, cramped airship warily. Even though he had limited experience with the world, he could tell it was a small, personal craft at best. It barely held band of adventurers tucked closely together behind the pilot and offered the most minimum of comforts. Not at all like the first ship which had individual rooms, red carpets and a distinct floral smell. The Daath ship had more creature comforts than he ever knew existed. However, despite its luxurious appearance, it had not been comfortable. Rather, he had been terrified through the entire ordeal as his obviously flustered and angered handlers had barked orders at him or roughly dragged the green haired child about. His arms were still sore from the manhandling and no doubt would form a bruise.

A voice in the back of his head mused over the inconvenience of his frailty and imagined most boys his size would not bruise so easily, but he had more pressing concerns at the moment. He placed a shaking hand over the bruise as if to physically push the matter from his mind for the moment.

"Are you ok?" The voice was high pitched, female and was so sudden it caused him to jump. There was no gentleness to the statement but he could tell there was genuine concern behind it. He ducked his head before anxiously sparing a glance at the speaker sitting next to him.

The girl wasn't looking at him and as far as he could tell she had yet to turn her face in his direction since they first sat down. Somehow she seemed to have been able to read his movement just from the shifting in his seat or arm brushing the air against hers. From the extremely brief time they had spent in each other's company, he had quickly deduced she was very experienced in translating the faintest hints of his body language. Somehow he imagined such a skill would only come from time spent in close contact with someone, but that didn't seem to be the case for her.

She kept her gaze from him and seemed to be making a point of it. He took the opportunity and studied her closely. Her pigtails were high, dark brown and held up by two small yellow bows that contrasted sharply against the wave of her curls as the trailing ribbons hung straight along the length of her hair. He had yet to get a good look at her face, but imagined it was tan like her shoulders that were uncovered by her pink sleeves. His gaze trailed the embroidered collar and design of her over vest then rested on her yellow doll. A small shiver went up his spine at the wide, toothy grin it was giving him and he ducked his head again.

"Mm," he finally replied softly in confirmation. He gripped the brown, gritty fabric of his gown anxiously as he waited for her response. No words were said, but that didn't bother him. He preferred her silence to making her angry. Although, he would have at least understood anger better than the obscure mood of her and the other passengers. Meekly he raised his eyes to survey their current state.

Directly in front of them a young man with short, crisp blond hair sat in the aisle seat, arms folded across his orange vest. He also hadn't moved since he sat down. Despite his relaxed posture, the boy could tell he was tense. The girl across the aisle from the blonde man seemed distracted by what was outside the window much like the girl sitting next to him, but he could get a glimpse of her delicate and dignified face from this angle. It was veiled by a soft sadness, almost pity, as her thoughts drifted through the corners of her mind. She idly toyed with one of her short, blonde curls.

Another girl sat in front of her. This one with straight, light brown hair that gathered in her seat at the point where her lower back pressed against the chair. Her clothes were more formal and dark, but left few curves to the imagination on her voluptuous body. He couldn't see her face now, but remembered getting a look at her when entering the ship. The expression had been an odd mix of gentle and cold as she stared at him with one eye. He hoped she had another one under the hair that had fallen over her face. Despite the fact she was so quiet and serious, he thought she was a beautiful woman. It would be a shame if her face had been damaged and lost an eye. He watched as angled her body ever so slightly to lean into the aisle and speak lowly to the boy sitting across from her.

This boy was particularly strange and even the green haired child couldn't go without taking notice of him. His voice was loud, his white and black clothes were obscure at best, and he had the most striking color of orange for hair. He held himself awkwardly yet without hesitation as if he was both uncertain yet determined of his actions at the same time. He didn't walk with the same confidence as the others, but he stubbornly held himself high all the same. Even though the child wasn't sure what the older boy's resolve was, he hoped that the redhead would pull through. The older boy was the only one out of the group who had looked at him with a gentle, reassuring smile. Somehow he was confident that the redhead understood him on some level the others couldn't.

A soft cough alerted him to another presence nearby. Across the aisle from the green haired child, an older man sat comfortably in the only other two passenger seat. It seemed a bit odd no one else would dare intrude on his space in the cramped cockpit, but he did give off a formidable air. Although not in the way the Oracle Knights had where he didn't look particularly threatening physically, but the man's clever gaze seemed to miss nothing and analyze everything behind his glasses. The uniform he wore also implied he was a soldier of some sort and a high ranking one at that. If the boy remembered correctly from his training, it was Malkuth in design. Political factions were important for the replacement of a Fon Master to recognize. His dark jade gaze suddenly met with the sandy blonde's burgundy eyes and he quickly averted his gaze to the front again. He didn't like the look he had been given. While not harsh, it was horribly calculating as though he was being internally dissected by the man.

A sudden roar of the motor caused the boy to cringe and hunker down in his seat, arms folding over his head in a protective shield against any oncoming danger. The airship gave a lurch that nearly made his stomach turn. He quickly realized the lurch had not been forward or backward and instead rose vertically into the air. Paling despite his already ivory skin, he folded his upper body into his lap as best he could around the seatbelt, knees coming up to try and meet him half way. A tremble wracked its way through his body as he gripped anxiously at the short ends of his green hair. Even when the plane ceased its ascent he refused to move.

"Calm down," the pigtailed girl commanded next to him, pausing as if reconsidering her tone before speaking in a softer, yet strained voice, "We won't fall out of the sky. Noelle is a great pilot."

"I don't… like it…" he said softly, words broken and hesitant. He was unfamiliar with his own voice. Not because he hadn't heard it before. Having seen other replicas like him, the voice was not an unusual sound, but using it himself was odd. The vibration of his throat followed by the sound he heard was so similar, but different in his ears than what he knew it sounded like.

"Well, I don't like a lot of things, but I don't complain about it… much," the girl said, her voice tensing as if trying to summon some sort of emotion or front to use against the boy before it suddenly dropped barely above a whisper, "Ion didn't complain about anything…"

He was silent to that, but had lowered his arms to look at the girl and relaxed his posture slightly. His lips twisted into a small frown as he regarded her back with a quizzical expression. She shifted her shoulders uncomfortably as if she could feel his eyes on her. The girl straightened herself and pushed back from the window in one jerky motion, looking forward at her companions and still avoiding his direction.

"So, what will happen to Mohs?" she asked loudly, referring to the crazed monster the maestro had been reduced to. The thought of that creature sent a small shiver up the boy's spine again as he dully listened to their conversation, but didn't pay attention to it. He folded his hands around his knees for comfort and stared at them as if they were vastly more important than anything else going on. As he became accustomed to the motion of the aircraft and roar of the motor, it became more comforting than frightening. Without thinking, he hummed a soft duet with the engine and was pleased by the vibration of his throat synching to the faint buzzing motion of the plane itself. Eventually he felt a pair of eyes on him and looked at his seatmate again.

Her eyes were just as dark as her hair and, as he thought, her sun tanned face was framed by more wavy locks. The expression she wore was blank as she chewed on her lip thoughtlessly, but he could tell she was thinking very hard from the way her eyes focused on him. He felt his cheeks grow hot and couldn't imagine why. He lightly brushed a hand over the flush on his cheekbone as if it could be whipped away and was puzzled when he brought his fingers in front of him and saw no strange substance. But he definitely felt hot. Having no other source for answers, he timidly glanced back at the girl.

"You're embarrassed," she said evenly to answer the unspoken question. She seemed to have reached some sort of resolution to her earlier thoughts. "You don't know anything, do you?"

"N… Not enough…" the boy admitted cryptically, glancing downwards when he spoke. Words still felt unfamiliar in his mouth.

"No one really knows enough." She rolled her dark eyes with a scoff. "Everyone thinks they're so smart. That they know what's best… Well, they don't. Don't you ever think you know what's best for everyone, got it?" There was a sudden forcefulness in her voice that took the boy off guard. He could only nod mutely, eyes wide as he watched her body movements for any hints of aggression. The pigtailed girl sat back, satisfied by his obedience. Her elbow propped up against the seal of the window and she folded her arm back to rest her cheek on her fist. Thoughtfully her eyebrows knit and she chewed her lip again before looking back at him once more.

"You are not Ion," she said sternly. The statement startled him. Of course he knew he wasn't the Ion, but Ion was who he was supposed to become. It was his purpose to replace Ion as far as he knew. "You are not Ion," she said again, this time more gently and he thought he saw some moisture in her eyes, "You can never be Ion. Do you understand?" He only nodded, not wanting to face her wrath and was relieved to see her sigh and discretely rub a sleeve over her eyes. This time when she looked back at him she smiled. The smile was strained and forced, but it was a smile, and she held out her hand to him. "I am Anise," she said, "Anise Tatlin."

"I am not Ion," the boy stated, not having a name to give her in return. He looked down at her hand warily and regarded it as though some sort of trap. He was rewarded by a chuckle.

"No, you aren't," she agreed, voice soft and the smile became more relaxed at his naiveté, "Don't worry. I'm not going to hurt you. Shaking hands is how you make friends."

The boy gave her a look somewhere between confused and worried. "I do not… wish to make anyone," he said.

"Making people is a bad thing," Anise said, trying to keep herself from chuckling again at him, "But making friends is different. You don't literally make them. It's like…" She glanced upward as if Yulia herself would descend with the answer. "You meet someone and, if you like them and they like you, you become friends," she said slowly before nodding to herself as if confirming she was making some sense.

"Do… I like you?" the boy asked.

"That's for you to decide," Anise said, "But it would make me happy if you do. Being liked is better than being hated for sure…" Perhaps naïve wasn't quite a strong enough word to describe the boy. Ignorant came to mind, but somehow that seemed unfair even if It was true. It wasn't the replica's fault he didn't know anything. It wasn't his fault he had Ion's face, either…

"You aren't scary," the replica said after some thought, "You… smile at me." He glanced at her to make sure he hadn't said anything offensive before continuing. "I… like that. So, I must like you." He heard a faint snort behind him that sounded vaguely like someone muttering, "Logical." He turned his head to look back at the sandy haired man that was making a point of looking forward. When it didn't seem to be a threat he turned back to Anise again, blinking at the disapproving glare directed over his shoulder.

"Anyway," Anise said, turning her attention back to him and smiling again, seeming more energetic all of a sudden as if the burst of irritation had revived her somewhat. He noticed a tune to her voice even as it trailed off thoughtfully and he felt warmed by it. "Ignore the colonel. He's just a bitter old man."

"You wound me," the man said dryly from across the aisle. The boy turned in time to observe a faint smirk on his face, seeming a bit more lively now himself.

"I'll do more than that if you make fun of my new friend," Anise challenged, "Don't pick on him. He's been through a lot already!"

"Pick on a child? You seem to have me confused with some sort of bully," the colonel said, pushing his glasses higher on the bridge of his nose, "Laughing at someone else's expense is…"

"One of your favorite past times, colonel?" Anise interjected. The boy fumbled nervously at the tension he assumed was between them.

"Don't mind them," the blonde in front turned in his seat, folding his arm over the back of it with a pleasant enough smile, "This is just how Jade and Anise get along. It's all in good fun."

"Guy," Jade said, voice suddenly serious. Guy winced slightly before warily eyeing the colonel.

"Yeah?" he asked cautiously.

"I do hope you are prepared to fetch me some tea when we arrive," Jade said, "I am quite thirsty."

"You're kidding?" Guy gawked, "Where in Daath would I go just to get you some tea?"

"I'm sure a clever, young lad like you can manage," Jade said before sighing gravely, "My old joints just aren't as spritely as they used to be. Making it to get some tea and back in time for our departure would be far too great of a hassle."

"Then go without tea," Guy tried to reason, hoping to avoid Jade's obvious hazing.

"Oh, and I thought you were a kind young man, too," Jade said despairingly, "To think, your chivalry is but a show... I must report this to Emperor Peony as soon as possible."

"Ugh, alright already!" Guy groaned as he turned back in his seat with a huff, "I'll get you your tea."

The boy was quiet as he watched the bantering, uncertain what to make of the adventurers. Anise's snickering, though, told him that this was humorous for some reason. He glanced at her and couldn't help his lips tugging upwards.

"Do you like me?" he asked as if their conversation had never been interrupted. Anise was caught off guard by the question and looked up in time to see the smile on his face. Her heart briefly lost its rhythm at the familiarity of his face. Despite the sadness and guilt that immediately followed, she smiled at him.

"Yeah," she said, "I think we're going to be good friends." She reached over and took his hand. "I won't let anyone hurt you. That's a promise I won't ever break as long as I live." Now that she was free to keep her promises. He felt his smile broaden into a grin as his fingers curled around hers.

"I believe you," he said, voice soft but stronger than it had been. The world he had been introduced to so far was frightening and cruel, but maybe with a friend it wouldn't be so bad. The rest of the flight was uneventful enough and passed quickly now that Anise was talking to him. He didn't understand most of what she said, but was content just to listen to her explain where they were going and why. Just to be spoken to was a comfort to him. It allowed him to focus on something specific rather than his scattered thoughts and confusion over the outside stimulus of the plane and people around them. He refused to look at the window even when Anise wanted to point out Daath to him. Everything was so confusing and there was so much of it that he felt dizzy. His ignorance frightened him more than anything. He had no idea what was a threat, what was normal and what he should do about it without direction. Anise was the only direction he had and gripped her hand tightly when he felt their decent.

"Noelle is a great pilot," Anise assured him again, chuckling despite herself as he pressed himself back against his seat as if somehow he could help stabilize the plane with his frail body. Only when they were on the ground did he slump down in exhaustion, but didn't have time to rest. The tug on his hand let him know it was time to stand and he obediently followed Anise to the door. He kept his head down until he came to the ramp and glanced up at the city gates.

His eyes widened as if trying to drink in the full sight entirely at one look. Suddenly his pupils dilated and he reeled back against the overload of sensations, nearly jerking Anise back in the process.

"H-Hey, calm down!" Anise objected, tightening her grip on the boy and leaning to prevent the taller child from retreating into the plane, "We need to get you to the cathedral. You'll be safe there." When the only response she got was a quivering whimper she frowned and shifted her stance to roughly tug him out. The frail boy, despite being taller, was easily yanked away from his shelter by the battle hardened little girl. He stumbled off the ramp and cringed at the feel of grass beneath his feet. His heart beat wildly as he tried to make a blind run for safety, but Anise still hadn't let go of him. She tugged him close and locked his upper body against her with both arms. "Stop it," she commanded, waiting until his struggles ceased and he twisted to cling to her. She sighed at his whimpering and gently caressed the boy's back. "It's ok… I won't let you be in any danger. Remember? I promised to protect you."

The replica clung tightly to the smaller girl, shudders running through his body again. "I-I'm scared," he said meekly in her ear.

"I know," Anise said, pulling back just enough to give him a confident smirk, "But, trust me, Tokunaga and I can smash any creep that would try to get you. We're super strong."

"T-Tokunaga?" the boy asked soggily, only then realizing his eyes had teared up, but didn't know to try wiping the moisture away. Grinning, Anise removed the doll from her back and held him out.

"Tokunaga," she said proudly, "He can keep you safe from anything."

"Really?" the boy asked, eyes going wide in awe at the doll's power.

"Really," Anise confirmed with a nod before stuffing the doll into the boy's hands, "I'll need him back, but you can hold him for now, ok? Just keep your eyes on me and Tokunaga and everything will be alright." The boy looked from the puppet to the puppeteer before nodding quietly and obediently taking her hand, comforted to know the magic doll would keep him safe.

Anise gave him another confident grin before partially dragging him down the street. The replica winced at the sounds and smells of the town as they passed, clinging tightly to Anise's hand and keeping his eyes to the ground. The soft gasps and hushed cries of a ghost being among them were no comfort. He closed his eyes tight until he noticed something brush up against his side and winced, chancing a glance to see black, baggy pants tailed by two long strips of white clothe whipping about the owner's legs purposefully. He didn't risk looking up, but knew it was the orange haired boy from the plane flanking his side. He twisted his head to the other side when he noticed Guy saunter up next to him on the other, closely followed by the long haired girl's dark boots and others fell closely into step behind the timid replica. The child clutched Tokunaga closer, unable to help feeling grateful for the human shield around him. If he knew how to, he would have liked to say thank you.

Anise hurried them through the streets, only letting go of the boy's hand to burst through the cathedral doors. The small group dispersed to a more comfortable and relaxed position yet he remained the nucleus of their formation.

"Tritheim!" Anise called, dropping her superior's title in her urgency, drawing more attention to them than the replica liked. He quickly ducked behind her and clung to her shoulders as he buried his face behind her pigtails. Anise flinched at first, not being the greatest fan of unplanned physical contact, but ignored it for the moment. It wasn't long before the aged maestro came shuffling down the stairs to meet the group and froze at the sight.

"I-It's…" he started, his mouth thinning into a line at the pitiful sight of the creature cowering behind the Fon Master Guardian.

"I believe Yulia City already sent a report, but this is Fon Master Ion's replica," the long haired girl stated matter of factly from the boy's left. The boy's trembles increased as he clung tighter to Anise's shoulders.

He didn't want to read the Score again. It had hurt so badly when Mohs forced him to before he thought his fonons would burst apart at any second. Surely that was what they would want him to do here. He hadn't recognized the city of Daath, but he knew what this church was. Mohs had told him his purpose was to read the Score for the sake of Auldurant according to the order's wishes. His mouth went dry, knowing all too well that he had only been created because the other replica had died. That was the only reason why he would be useful and he knew he would be used until he died as well. Suddenly, his grip on Anise's shoulder was lost, but before he could panic, two small hands were around his.

"Don't worry," Anise said as she smiled up at him, "The people here won't force you to read the Score." He was shocked into silence briefly when she seemed to read his fears. He bit his lip when he realized the implications of her words.

"You aren't staying… Anise?" he asked softly, eyes filling with fear again.

"No, I have something I need to do," Anise said. The resolve in her voice and hardness in her eyes stopped his protests before he could start. He hated the thought of his friend leaving him alone, but she had promised to keep him safe. So here must be safe and he had no reason to believe she would lie to him.

"Don't worry," the loud voice of the redheaded boy said reassuringly, "Anise will be back when it's all over. I'm sure she'll come see you." The replica was startled enough to actually look at the boy, taking in his full appearance at once. His clear, blue-green eyes were steady and he regarded the smaller boy with that same, understanding smile that made him feel like the redhead knew. Simply knew, and it was oddly reassuring. Somehow, the boy knew he wasn't being lied to. "And I will, too, of course."

The boy hesitated before blushing and ducking his head again, wondering what that meant, but feeling strangely happy. He would like that. He had a feeling he liked the older boy very much already.

"By the way," Tritheim entered the conversation carefully, "What should we call him? Ion would be…" The maestro let his concern die, knowing the others would understand without his explination. The boy looked back to Anise anxiously, hesitating at the flicker of emotion in the girl's dark eyes. He wasn't sure what it meant, but he got the impression that the name Ion bothered her deeply from her earlier lecture.

"Hmm…" the redhead mused, but it was hard to tell if it was an agreement or actual thought on a name.

"Why don't you name him, Anise?" the long haired girl said, this time her tone more at ease when regarding her ally and out of respect for the delicate subject, "He has grown attached to you, after all." Anise stared long and hard into the boy's eyes as if the answer was buried deep within the dark green hues. He knew he should feel nervous or anxious, but was strangely calmed and stared back into her dark gaze.

The trust in his expression nearly broke Anise's heart, remembering when Ion had looked at her that way even as she betrayed him time and time again. Even as he had lain dying in Luke's arms, that same trust had never wavered from his gaze. He was stupid not to have hated her. Hate would have been easier to accept than his gentle understanding and willingness to sacrifice his life. No one as kind and innocent as he was should have ever suffered the way he had. No one should have died the way he did.

"Florian," she said after a few moments, keeping her expression even as she spoke. Any emotion, even a smile for the replica, would be too painful for her at that moment. She ignored the others discussing the name and its implications. "The innocent one…" she whispered its meaning softly to herself, hoping his innocence could be preserved. Perhaps naming him so was a futile, silly hope, but she wanted him to remain pure and untainted like Ion had been. For now, Florian would be her hope that, despite all of their suffering, something good and innocent could be born out of the blood and sacrifice. "Florian, I'll come back to see you later, ok?"

Florian felt himself blush at being called by a name. He gripped her hands tighter, not wanting her to leave him, but was unable to help being happy. Florian was his name. His name that had belonged to no one previously. He was now an individual and would not be inheriting the name that had been originally planned for him.

"Ion…" Anise whispered softly, gazing deep into his eyes again, but this time she wasn't looking at him anymore. He nearly reeled back at being called by that dreaded name, and felt an unpleasant stirring in his heart. Neither noticed the long haired girl approach them until she was at Anise's side, a hand lightly touching the small girl's shoulder.

"Anise," she said in her gentle commanding voice, "Let's go." It was simple yet profound enough to snap Anise from her stupor. The little girl was the one who reeled back this time as if she had just been rudely awakened and let go of Florian's hands in a hurry.

"Oh… Right," she said, dazed and quickly putting on a bright, cheerful smile for Florian, "I'll be back to play with you as soon as I can. Be good for Maestro Trithiem. He's kind of a stick in the mud, but he means well." The older man made a soft, coughing noise in agitation to remind the girl he was standing nearby and could hear her. Anise only laughed whimsically at her intentional blunder.

"Got to go!" She tried to run past Florian, unsure she could stand looking at his face any longer. His hand was suddenly fast and strong, grabbing her wrist and stopping her with little effort. Alarmed by the solid grip of the fragile looking boy, Anise whipped her head around to face him. "F-Florian?"

Florian was pleased to hear her call him by his name again, but pushed the thought to the side and held out Tokunaga quietly from where he'd been holding it at his side. He released her hand and ducked his head shyly. "You're going somewhere dangerous," he said softly, "You need something to protect you…"

Anise was quiet for a moment before smiling and taking Tokunaga back. "Thanks," she said, feeling true warmth in her heart for the first time since Ion's death. Florian just smiled meekly, pleased that Anise seemed happy at last and watched passively as she turned to continue her adventure with the others falling into step behind her. He stared at the door long after it had shut before slowly turning and looking up at Tritheim, meeting his gaze unflinchingly and mimicked Anise's cheerful grin as he held out his hand as she had to him before.

"I am Florian," he said, "And I am not Ion."

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So, it's been a while since I played this game, and I'm not sure of all the details, but whatever! This is also my first time uploading something on , so not sure if this will come out right… A for effort. :P


	2. A Happy Home

I edited the chapter once so far. This one actually kind of continues the first chapter. There might be some continuity between chapters depending on how I feel going about this. I'm just sort of writing as I go and seeing what comes out. So far, so good, I guess. No promise that this will evolve into a full on story.

This chapter primarily deals with Florian getting to know the church and his caretakers while Anise is away. Somehow it reached the point about the play that happened in the game. I might do one more chapter similar to this about them playing tag... Depends on where my muse takes me. :P

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**_*~A Happy Home~*_**

Anxious wasn't quite a strong enough word to describe the feeling, but it was the only one Florian knew to describe his fluttering heart and fidgeting hands. Trithiem had been attempting to explain the basic yet intricate workings of the Order of Lorelei. The Fon Master replica already knew most of it from Mohs' training and much of the lecture was needless review. However, the green haired boy had yet to find the courage to interrupt his guide to explain this. He mostly kept his gaze on the ancient maestro or the ceilings and walls, trying to avoid seeing the people around them. Most were mere clerics and acolytes that stared and whispered between each other. Different accounts of rumors had been circulating surrounding the boy's origins and purpose. Some watched him in utter shock, but every now and then he would see a flicker of hate or disgust for the replica.

They all knew Ion, the Ion they loved, was dead now. This boy couldn't pretend to be the Fon Master in the eyes of the church even if he wanted. Whether there had been a formal announcement to the crowds outside or not was unknown. The outside world didn't matter much now to Florian. When the doors of the cathedral were shut, there was only the cathedral. He knew there was an outside. He had been out there himself at one point. But the world was easier for him to understand if he shrunk it down to the inside of the church. Once someone left the building, they had left the world as far as he was concerned unless they were a short, feisty pigtailed girl named Anise.

His dark jade eyes darted longingly out a nearby window against his will, wishing he could catch a sight of the Albiore's silhouette against the blue sky. Only clouds again today. Dejected, he turned his attention back to Trithiem's tour of the facility to notice that they had stopped. The old man had his hand on an intricately designed door constructed from the finest stained oak Daath's forest had to offer. He lingered there contemplating as though once one chose to cross the threshold of the room there was no turning back. Florian waited with a child's patience. He glanced away and shifted on his feet, looking back frequently to make sure he hadn't missed anything during his period of failed attention span. The sudden intake of breath from Trithiem alerted him the old man had made his decision and the door quietly swayed open.

"This," the old man began, pausing to sweep his hand over the dimly lit and spacious room for emphasis, "is the Fon Master's room." Florian had started to creep closer to look inside, but stopped just as suddenly as if bumping into an invisible barrier. The boy felt a shiver run up his spine and his heart beat faster. Warily he watched Trithiem to see if his body language would betray any of his intentions. The maestro's eyes gazed deeply into the room, but more likely he wasn't actually admiring the large desk, luxurious chair, fireplace or even the bed that took up most of the room. He seemed very far away at the moment and that frightened Florian more than whatever the man had plotted. Trithiem was no Anise, but he had been gentle if not kind to the boy. Florian didn't want to be left alone. Before he knew what he was doing, he reached out to grab the maestro's arm, eyes wide with concern and fear.

"Mm?" Trithiem gave a start as he glanced back at the child in his care. He paused a beat before softening his expression into a weak smile, "Oh, are you trying to comfort me?"

"You seemed…" Florian paused to cycle through his vocabulary for an adequate description, "... like you were going away." Trithiem blinked at him before chuckling and tenderly ruffling the replica's hair.

"I was merely remembering the past," he said, "I have served several Fon Masters so this room has quite a few memories for me. Have no fear. I will ensure that you are well cared for." Florian nodded quietly, letting go of Trithiem's arm and easing away from the maestro as he looked over the room.

He duly noted the shelves of books and creature comforts of the room, but somehow, for all its grandeur, it did not appeal to him. He mused over how his predecessor must have used this room as if it were his own. He could almost see the shadowy reflection of a replica busying about acting the role they were born to play. Two years ago this had belonged to the real Ion as well. How many times had the original been replaced? Was the last replica the only one who had used the room since Ion's death or had there been more? Did it even matter how many had been sacrificed for the Score? Replicas were expendable, after all. Although, Florian mused, that must have meant the original had been as well once his replacements were created. Perhaps everyone was expendable to some degree. But that begged the question of who decided a person's worth.

"Florian," Tritheim interrupted the boy's thoughts, waving him to come closer to a wardrobe in the corner. Florian did not want to venture further into the room. As far as he was concerned it was hallowed and forbidden. He remained near the door frame as he chewed over his options. When he saw a frown on the maestro's face, the boy panicked and quickly decided it was best to follow orders than risk angering anyone. His steps were swift and cautious, barely making a noise as he crossed the distance between the door and the wardrobe. Satisfied, Tritheim opened the wardrobe to reveal several ceremonial robes all Florian's size. "For now, I would like to ask that you wear these."

"These are Ion's," Florian observed softly, "Not Florian's…" Tritheim hesitated and glanced back at the boy's simple statement, wondering if there was any further meaning behind it. The concerned, naïve look in the replica's eyes told him the boy meant no harm or accusation.

"I believe Ion would be happy to let you wear them," the maestro soothed, "He was a very generous young man…"

"Which Ion was?" Florian asked, voice still soft, but the words cut into Tritheim at the reminder of what Mohs had done. He sighed shakily and closed his eyes as he tried to pull together an answer for the boy. It still sickened him how the Fon Master's name had been defiled and the Order's leader replaced by Van's puppets.

"The one I cherished," Tritheim finally answered. Florian mused over that answer for a moment before nodding. He didn't fully understand the meaning, but doubted Tritheim could explain further from the look on the man's face.

"Then I will wear Ion's clothes," Florian agreed, "But I am not Ion." Tritheim chuckled weakly at the boy's continued insistence that he was not the Fon Master. Internally he wished that, despite the heresy of it all, they could simply put Florian in Ion's clothes and pretend nothing had ever gone wrong. Ignoring the truth would be easier than facing it all and changing. However, he knew that the lies had gone far enough and he only hoped that Van would end the suffering he had caused so they could rebuild the Order and damaged kingdoms.

Florian awkwardly tugged his brown robe off his body. He had never properly dressed himself before, but imagined the first step would be to remove the ones he was wearing. When he found his arms were twisted in the cloth and his head stuck, he let out a panicked noise somewhere between a whimper and a wail as he struggled.

"Hold still," Trithiem ordered as he moved over to help, alarmed by how helpless the replica was. He had never cared for a child before. Ion had always been very self sufficient, but Florian barely had any coordination above a toddler. He carefully yanked the gritty clothes off the replica, noting tears in the dark green eyes. The maestro suddenly felt awkward himself. Ion had never cried before that he knew of, and the sulky expression seemed so out of place on the normally gentle, composed face he was familiar with. "You… are not hurt?" he asked.

"N-No…" Florian admitted soggily. Trithiem wasn't sure then why the replica was so upset. He fumbled for some sort of words of comfort for a child but had none.

"Then there is no reason for tears," he finally said, straightening himself to seem more regal and logical, "Dry your eyes and I will assist you in getting dressed." Florian hiccupped softly on the strange choking sensation in his throat threatening to burst out of him. The growing discomfort made him squirm and he couldn't ignore the mounting pressure in his chest. He didn't recognize himself as he began to wail out a sob, the tears slipping down his cheeks unhappily. Trithiem winced and took a step back in shock at the outburst of shameless sobbing. "Th-There is no need for that! Please, calm yourself at once!" he ordered more forcefully than he intended, but only succeeded to encourage louder sobbing.

"What is this here?" an aged, female voice inquired as a woman rounded the door frame. Her dark eyes widened in shock at the sight. "By the Score! Fon Master Ion?"

"No, Pamela, I'm afraid not," Trithiem said, flustered by the child's cries and unsure how to soothe them, "This boy is a replica Anise brought here for sanctuary."

"Goodness, he looks just like the Fon Master, doesn't he?" The dark haired woman moved forward, unfazed by Florian's sobs as she gently took the boy by his shoulders and encouraged him to turn into her bosom. "There, there, little one. What is all this fuss?" she soothed with the warmth and tenderness of an experienced mother. Florian instinctively wrapped his arms around her waist and buried his face against her. He was too upset at the moment to care she was a stranger.

"He merely got his head stuck while removing his clothes," Trithiem said with a disapproving frown, not amused by the boy's childishness, "Then he started throwing this fit."

"Poor thing," Pamela soothed the replica, ignoring Trithiem's frustration for the moment, "That scared you, didn't it? I bet it was very scary to be stuck." Florian nodded against her before meekly glancing up at the woman and nearly choked in shock.

"A-Anise?" he asked, voice a bit raw where it wasn't used to making loud noises and crying. The woman smiled and chuckled softly.

"How sweet," she said, flattered that he would confuse her with the young girl for even a moment, "No, deary, I am Anise's mother. You may call me Pamela."

"Mother…?" Florian repeated the unfamiliar word, sniffling softly against his now runny nose.

"Here," Pamela said as she fished a kerchief from her pocket and placed it to his nose, "Now blow." Florian hesitated but did as instructed, startling himself when he felt something exit his naval cavity and relieve the pressure from his sinuses. The maternal woman chuckled at the awed look on his puffy face. "No more tears, ok?" Florian nodded quietly in agreement as she wiped some of the tear stains from his face. "That's better."

Trithiem was also in awe of Pamela. He had always found her and her husband to be well meaning, but horribly foolish people. He had thought Mohs only kept Pamela and Oliver in the church's service out of pure charity until recent events revealed otherwise. Either way, it had not been due to their usefulness even though they were kind and well liked among the clergy. However, now he was beginning to see a greater purpose and skill that he never thought he would require before from the Order's employment.

"Ok, hold your arms out straight," Pamela encouraged, having wordlessly taken over the job of getting Florian dressed. The boy obeyed pleasantly, smiling faintly at the woman as he held his arms out for her to pull the robe over. He felt another pang of fear grip him when he lost the ability to see until his head popped out the collar. His green hair was disorderly and puffed out against his will from the material's static. "There you are," Pamela half cheered as she tried to straighten his hair. The boy smiled faintly even as he felt his cheeks grow hot. "What a good boy."

Florian instantly liked Pamela. The way her eyes twinkled with delight at caring for him made the replica feel less like a burden. She seemed almost happy to have someone depend on her for the moment and it was comforting to think she was pleased by him. He examined her button nose and pouty smile that were so similar to Anise's that he nearly called her by the girl's name again. However, he now noticed the wrinkles and creases in her skin that weren't as deep as Trithiem's, but revealed a lack of youth. He imagined her dark hair was curly like Anise's when it wasn't up in a bun and wished she would take it down.

"I… I am Florian," the replica said shyly, "Anise named me."

"Florian? What a beautiful name," Pamela said as she helped the boy pull on the pants and shoes of the Fon Master. She smiled proudly and her eyes twinkled with pleasure again. "My little Anise is good at that sort of thing. She's a very clever little girl." Florian nodded in agreement even though he was not a good judge of intelligence himself.

"Pamela," Trithiem said paitiently, waiting until the woman stood and straightened herself properly before addressing him.

"Yes, Maestro Trithiem," she answered politely.

"As you know, there are many delicate matters I must attend to," Trithiem said, "Especially in these chaotic times; the Order of Lorelei must try to strengthen the people's hope."

"I couldn't agree more!" Pamela said almost wistfully as though the maestro had said the most profound thing she had ever heard, "Nothing will strengthen them more than the Score. It is our guide to happiness, after all."

"Yes, well," Trithiem said, noting a small quake of fear from the replica at the mention of the Score, "For now, we must do what we can. I must assist the other Maestros but I cannot leave young Florian to his own devices…"

"Oh, Oliver and I would be most overjoyed to take care of him," Pamela volunteered whole heartedly, "Please, allow us the privilege of helping you and Florian." Trithiem pretended to ponder his options as though it was a very grave matter of the utmost importance.

"Very well," Trithiem said with a quick nod, "I will entrust his well being and education to the Tatlin family." Pamela graciously bowed, clasping her hands in front of her.

"Oh, thank you for honoring us so!" Pamela said joyfully, "Yulia be praised!" The crafty Maestro nodded, masking his relief and straightening himself dignantly.

"Then, I will take my leave," he said, making his way across the room and exiting without giving Pamela or Florian a second look. Which was just fine with the young replica. He far from disliked Trithiem, but had quickly realized he was a burden on the maestro. Pamela, on the other hand, seemed completely enthused to be caring for him. He actually felt wanted by her.

"Oh, I must tell Oliver at once," Pamela said, straightening herself and keeping her hands clasped pleasantly in front of her. She moved over to Florian and took his hand in hers. "Would you mind coming with me to meet my husband? I would very much like for you to meet him." Florian blinked at the request. Normally he was told where to go and no one had ever asked before. Despite the fact it was a request, and he felt empowered to know that no was an option, he felt that he couldn't refuse this woman. He nodded and found himself smiling to match hers.

Florian allowed her to lead him by the hand, remembering when Anise had led him as well. Even though they had only been together for the briefest time, he felt as though the pigtailed girl was the most wonderful person he would ever meet. Her mother was also wonderful, and so her father must be as well. He imagined anyone named Tatlin had to be wonderful and he was very lucky to have met them. No one else mattered at that moment even though he noted somewhere in the back of his mind that the stares were back. He smiled despite them as he watched Pamela warm the halls like a summer breeze. Everything was much better now.

Pamela only stopped once they had reached the Tatlin home. It wasn't much compared to the rest of the church. Actually, compared to the rest of the church, it was nothing but a hole with beds and a table. Florian was reminded of the Albiore he had been brought in by Anise and how cramped it had been. Oddly it was more comfort to him than any of the brilliant statues and high decorated ceilings could ever be. His jade gaze was able to easily take in the entire home without feeling overloaded or intimidated by over stimulus. He hesitated before pulling away from Pamela, feeling bold enough to explore the area himself.

The matronly woman only smiled as she watched Florian. His movements were both awkward and delicate at the same time. She was saddened to think how much he looked like their precious Ion, but could already tell distinct differences in Florian. His face was unintentionally expressive and he wore every emotion on his sleeve unlike the ever pleasant and reserved Fon Master they knew. She wondered if Florian would mature to be like Ion or if he would become something entirely different. She honestly didn't understand much about replicas or how they grew, but Florian was a very sweet child, and her baby had grown up. It happened so fast that Pamela wasn't sure when Anise had shifted from child to family head. Even though Pamela was naïve, she could realize something was wrong when Anise was forced to support her family at such a young age, but didn't know how to fix it. She only hoped she could do better caring for Florian and somehow Anise would forgive her and Oliver for their ignorance. The woman lightly gripped her apron as she recalled when Mohs revealed that they had been the strings he was puppeting their daughter with. In the end it was poor, dear Ion who had paid the ultimate price for their stupidity. It was a sin that Pamela wasn't sure even Yulia would forgive them for, but hoped to redeem herself through Florian. Suddenly two arms were around her waist and pulled the petite woman back against another body. She gasped and whipped her head around for fear of danger.

"Hello, dear," Oliver said, taking advantage of her shock to steal a quick kiss. The woman relaxed and flustered at the same time.

"Do not scare me so!" Pamela scolded, "Haven't we already been through enough without you giving me a heart attack?"

"The Score did not say you would die or be ill today," Oliver said with a chuckle, "It shall be a good day."

"It shall indeed," Pamela agreed before gesturing gently to the boy now cowering behind a shabby cupboard, "Come out, Florian. This is my husband, Oliver. He means no harm." The green haired boy meekly peeked out from his hiding spot to study the new arrival.

The man was also aged beyond his years with wrinkles similar to Pamela. His hair was neatly arranged and laid obediently flat against his head unlike Anise or Pamela. It was brown, but not nearly as dark as the rest of his family. He wore a dark green, long robe, but it had no ornaments or decoration indicating he was a peasant or very low level member of the Order. His eyes looked as though they were permanently tired, but Florian noticed the wrinkles were most creased around the corners of his eyes. For some reason, this man had spent most of his life smiling despite obvious hardships.

The boy slowly emerged, waiting for the man to react to him. Oliver's face went blank a moment as he took in the boy's appearance and clothing. A pin could have dropped and everyone would have heard in the following silence. His face slowly creased into a smile. "Goodness," he finally said, shattering the quiet, "What an unexpected blessing this is!"

Pamela smiled and leaned up to kiss her husband on his jaw, knowing he recognized their chance to redeem their past failures as well. "This is Florian," she said, "Maestro Trithiem has honored us with his care."

"Yulia has chosen to smile on us yet again," Oliver said happily as he moved over to the confused replica. Florian didn't think someone would accept him so easily or with such warmth. He hesitantly smiled. Anise's father was wonderful, too, like he thought the man would be. He felt a hearty hand firmly placed on his shoulder and looked up at Oliver. "Welcome, Florian. If there is ever anything you need, please let me know right away."

Florian nodded, mimicking Oliver's cheerful grin that was so much like Anise's. Somehow, the boy knew he would be happy with them.

Maestro Trithiem had originally planned for Florian to sleep in the Fon Master's room, but no matter how many times he left the replica there at night, somehow Florian found his way back to the Tatlin's home. For the first few days it sent him into a panic thinking he had lost the green haired child, but he eventually gave up even starting to look for the boy in his room and immediately went to Pamela to collect him in the morning for lessons. He was pleased to notice that Florian was gradually learning proper manners and responses rather than quietly nodding his acceptance. Recently, Florian had made a point of saying, "Good morning," and, "Good night," to Trithiem as though he thought neglecting to do so would result in a bad experience for the maestro. It was endearing despite its childishness and he found himself accepting it as an integral part of his day. Eventually, he stopped taking Florian back to the Fon Master's room all together and simply returned him to Oliver and Pamela. The replica wouldn't stay put and he knew that the Tatlins had all but fallen in love with the child. It soothed their loneliness over Anise's absence and in turn Florian seemed most at ease in their presence.

The only problem now was what to do with the vacant Fon Master's room and the Order was becoming more and more aware of the equally vacant position that so desperately needed to be filled. But not just anyone could become Fon Master. The power to use Daathic Artes and reading of Yulia's Score had to be taken into account. Which, much to his own discomfort, he had quickly realized Florian was capable of as Ion's replica. Trithiem was as reluctant as Florian was to have the boy fulfill his purpose as a replacement Fon Master. Florian was still so helpless and dependent on others, he couldn't lead. More than that, Trithiem feared treading the dangerous line that Grand Maestro Mohs had dared to cross.

Florian was happy with Pamela and Oliver, especially now that he had unofficially moved in with them. He was placed in Anise's bed, but was ever so careful not to disturb any of her things. He didn't want to give her a reason to be angry with him when she returned. She had promised to return, after all, and he would wait patiently for her. He had learned keeping himself busy made him think less about his missing friend and was grateful for Trithiem's lessons that took up most of his day. Studying was a good distraction, but every now and then he would find himself staring out the window waiting for a plane to land outside the city walls. Pamela and Oliver had encouraged him to go outside as long as he stayed on the church grounds to play, but he had no playmate, which he quickly realized was necessary for him to have fun. It only made his loneliness for Anise worse.

His presence in the church was slowly being accepted even though it wasn't entirely appreciated. Florian had quickly learned who to avoid and strictly kept himself from venturing beyond permitted areas. The replica continued to wear ion's robes with Trithiem's insistence that they had nothing else for him at the moment. Florian found that odd where he had read about tailors who usually lived in large cities, and Daath seemed like a large enough city to have one, from what he understood. There was no reason not to trust Trithiem's judgment so he accepted it as true despite the oddity. As long as he was still Florian and no one tried to change that, he was content to do whatever the maestro asked of him.

The green haired boy walked through the church with a slight skip to his step, smiling cheerfully like Oliver had taught him to. Since Oliver and Pamela said that the best thing to do was smile and accept difficulties as Yulia's test, he assumed that if he behaved cheerfully and smiled then eventually he could overcome the difficulty of others hating his presence. Cheerfulness required quite a bit of effort, though, and a great deal of optimism that luckily Oliver and Pamela were full of. He hoped that Yulia approved of his actions since she meant so much to the couple. He knew most of the legends surrounding her since it was a requirement of a Fon Master to be well versed in scripture, but he didn't fully understand its meaning no matter how well he could recite it. What he did understand was that Yulia made the Tatlins happy and so he liked her very much. Prayer had been a difficult thing to learn though. He found it hard to speak to someone he could not hear or see, but Pamela reassured him that Yulia could hear and see him. It seemed a bit unfair to him, but accepted it as one of Yulia's quirks.

Florian rounded a corner then quickly retreated back, recognizing some of the officials gathered in the library as Maestros. He cautiously peeked out, wondering if he could spot Trithiem among them and frowned faintly at the concern on their faces. It seemed they were dealing with a very serious matter.

"What do we do?" one man asked, "How can we turn those children away after the whole world has turned their backs on them?"

"They were promised the play about the first Fon Master turning the mischievous demon good… Those poor orphans have been looking forward to this for so long," the other said sadly, "The Fon Master himself was going to act in it. With him gone… How can we tell them the Fon Master died?"

"We have no choice, really," Trithiem said at last, making his presence known, "It would be worse to tell them that the Fon Master was going back on his word. Besides, I hear the actor for the demon is sick, too…"

"Poor things," another agreed unhappily, "They have so little to hope for in this chaotic time and now this. Some will surely lose hope." Florian gasped softly at that, having heard hope was necessary for optimism. Without optimism, how could anyone over come Yulia's challenges? He failed to calculate the silence of the hallway and how it made even the faintest of noises seem like thunder. The maestros were instantly alerted to the little spy. Trithiem's frown softened when he saw Florian's head duck shyly behind the corner.

"We know you're there, Florian," he said evenly, "Come out now." The replica obediently stepped out from his hiding spot, fidgeting briefly before summoning his courage to speak.

"Will the orphans really lose their optimism?" he asked, ignoring the confused looks it earned him from the others. Trithiem had grown accustomed to Florian's way of thinking and description so he quickly translated the boy's meaning.

"They will be very disappointed and very sad," the maestro explained, "They wanted to see Fon Master Ion badly. The Fon Master is a symbol of hope for many people and we no longer have one."

Florian chewed his lip, a habit he had picked up from Pamela. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then to the window for answers. His breath caught in his throat when he noticed a familiar shadow. Without thinking he ran to the glass, pressing his hands and upper body against it as though somehow it would aid his visibility while he strained his neck upward. He barely caught it, but that was definitely the tail of the Albiore flying over head. "Anise…" he breathed out happily, face brightening as he turned back to the maestros, "I… I want to help! I'll… I'll pretend to be the Fon Master for the orphans' play."

"Y-You would?" Trithiem was startled that Florian would ever be bold or assertive enough to agree. Especially where the boy had done nearly everything in his power to avoid being called or associated with Ion. At the affirming and determined nod he received, Trithiem smiled weakly. "We would appreciate it, Florian."

"You're welcome…" Florian muttered bashfully before turning and running down the hall. He needed Anise for this. He couldn't be bold and brave enough without her there to help. His heart pounded in protest against his ribs while he ran. His body wasn't used to physical exertion of any sort, but he ignored it for the moment. Brushing past clerics and acolytes, he burst into the main hall, eyes darting around until he finally caught sight of the pink girl and her companions. Florian felt every inch of his body fill with joy and excitement to see his precious friend. "Anise!" he called before he had even reached her, running to the girl as fast as his legs would carry him, "Anise! Help me!"

Anise turned at her name and had started to greet him, but was frozen at the sight of the boy. She nearly sputtered out Ion's name, but quickly caught herself. She tried to wrap her mind around why Florian was wearing the Fon Master's robes. His cry for help snapped Anise out of her stupor so suddenly that she nearly panicked herself at the tone of his voice.

"Wh-wh-what is it?" she demanded, gripping Tokunaga with one hand in case an enemy popped out, "What's wrong, Florian?"

"We need someone to play the role of the mischievous demon!" Florian blurted out with the same urgency as if he was delivering news of an attack against all of Daath. Anise felt her expression go blank as her mind scrambled for a reason why this would concern her. At the lack of response, Florian felt the need to further justify the problem. "Otherwise, we can't do anything at all!"

"The mischievous demon?" the regal girl Florian recognized from the Radiation Gate turned her curly blonde head to the others for answers, brows knit slightly in confusion over her hazel eyes. Florian kept his attention on Anise though while the others discussed just who was most appropriate to be called a demon. He had managed to catch his breath, but for some reason his heart was still fluttering. He was so happy to have his friend back he wished to go hug her, but had been taught that uninvited hugs were not appropriate. Without him knowing it, Pamela was suddenly at his side.

"Florian," she began then paused when she noticed her daughter had returned home and smiled brightly, "Oh, my! Anise, you've come at the perfect time!"

"What is it, mama?" Anise asked warily, having a bad feeling from Florian's first outburst it was bound to be something ridiculous. Especially if her mother was enthusiastic, too. Pamela began to explain the situation of the play, reminding Florian of his important mission. He just knew that Anise would help them save the orphans. Anise was the bravest, most wonderful person he knew, after all. He didn't understand the jibes and snickers of the others in the group, but none of them really mattered at the moment.

"Anise," Florian said in a soft, but clear voice. It instantly had her complete attention and he was pleased to have it. He smiled at her. "I'm playing the role of the first Fon Master." He saw a strange emotion in her eyes, but continued. "I make the mischievous demon a good person. Come on, let's do it together!"

Anise made an uncertain noise as she squirmed, less than thrilled that her companions would see her do such an embarrassing thing, but impressed by how brave Florian was to even ask her. When they first met he had been so meek and pitiful she thought he might fall and shatter if the wind blew too hard. She couldn't let his courage go to waste.

"I can't say no to that smile…" Anise admitted unhappily.

"Anise, come on, do it for them," Guy encouraged warmly, but Anise was confident he was also laughing at her on the inside. She would have her revenge later.

"Oh… Alright," she finally relented. The joyful smile that lit up Florian's face could have warmed the entire hall. Pamela also smiled, having been informed of the situation by Trithiem's assistant and gone to assist their little Florian, but it seemed he already had all the help he needed. She gently handed out the scripts to their actors so the pair could get to work.

Florian was notably more energetic with Anise around and his smile more natural. He moved to her side when given the opportunity and diligently began to read and memorize the play with her. He noticed that Jade and the long haired girl in uniform left the group. Most likely they had some sort of official business to take care of so Florian paid them no mind. The elegant girl in blue began to wander about, admiring the art that decorated the church idly, but didn't stray far. There were only two presences that remained and began to loom over his and Anise's shoulders. He glanced back to see the loud, orange haired boy and Guy standing behind them.

"G… Good afternoon," Florian said, glancing at Pamela to assure himself he was using proper manners before grinning cheerfully at them. He received a smile in response from Guy.

"Hey there," he said, "You seem better than before." Florian nodded quietly before remembering himself and speaking outloud.

"Maestro Trithiem has been teaching me many things," he responded politely. The orange haired boy was quiet, studying Florian's reactions and words. Oddly, his examination didn't seem hostile to the young replica. Somehow, the child knew there was an unspoken understanding between them.

"Meiu!" a high pitched squeal announced the sudden appearance of a strange, blue creature over the red haired boy's shoulder. The sound combined with a quick motion caused Florian to jump behind Anise for shelter.

"What are you doing, Meiu?" the redhead snapped, "You scared him!"

"I'm sorry, Master," Meiu squealed out, "I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

"Luke, go easy on him," Guy said with a weak chuckle. Florian peeked out to see the redhead, Luke, was pulling the balloon like ears of the small creature to punish it.

"You guys are so annoying," Anise grumbled, twisting to fix the older youths with a glare, "Florian and I are trying to concentrate here!"

"Sorry, Anise," the two boys and odd creature chorused unhappily at being scolded. Satisfied they wouldn't give the pair anymore trouble, Anise turned her attention back to the script and Florian followed her example. The replica was just happy to have his friend here and the periodic bickering of her companions was strangely entertaining. He hoped one day all of them would come to stay for a very long time together like this.

The play was simple and easy enough for them to throw together before the orphans arrived. Anise knew it wouldn't matter even if they messed up. Kids that age would have been entertained by a meager puppet show. The only other humiliation she had to suffer was the costume her mother brought out to wear.

"You can't be serious! This is humiliating!" she ranted unhappily as she stepped out in the obscure outfit. Her companions did their best not to giggle at Anise, but even Florian could tell they agreed with her. The shirt was mostly black with pink trimming around the collar, ends of the torso and sleeves; all of which were jaggedly cut. A diamond shape was missing in the middle, exposing her tan tummy and belly button. Her shorts looked like someone had slipped a pink pumpkin around her waist and some dark clothe was attached to the back so it gave the appearance of bat wings. Her look was finished off by skulls replacing her yellow bows and another one tucked against the collar. She shifted unhappily in her black shoes and knee high, black and white stripped stockings, placing her hands on her hips as she challenged anyone to laugh at her.

"I think it's… cute," Florian said softly. Anise blinked as she glanced over at the naïve boy. There was no hint of mockery as he met her eyes. He had a tiny smile on his lips, but it was an honest, genuine smile for her. Sigh sighed, wanting to be irritated by it, but he was so sweet that she couldn't help being soothed a bit.

"Let's just get this over with," Anise grumbled as she led the way to the makeshift stage. She took her place and waited for the collected orphans to settle down. She felt her stomach clench with mild stage fright even though she knew messing up didn't matter. Her eyes narrowed when she noted the entire adventuring group had assembled in the back to watch, but tried to ignore them as she started her lines. Internally she began to worry that Florian might get scared and run away at this point. If even she felt nervous, what was that shy little replica going though?

"It's not right to do things like that," Florian said as he walked on the stage, his voice as clear and pure as a bell in her ears. Anise was startled by the complete lack of fear or hesitation and glanced over her shoulder at him. Her heart nearly stopped as she watched the boy step on stage. His back was straight and dignified, every move he made graceful and elegant as he smiled pleasantly at her. He was so reserved and confident in that moment Anise nearly choked on her next line. She wasn't looking at Florian anymore; she was looking at the Fon Master. Florian waited patiently for her next line, his smile both comforting and cryptic. She had no idea what he was thinking and it unnerved her how the expressive boy could suddenly switch entirely.

Finally, she stated her next line, trying to ignore the horrible familiarity in the way Florian spoke and moved as the play continued. So many questions whirled through her mind as her body acted automatically according to the script. How could Florian know how to so perfectly mimic Fon Master Ion? Were all the replicas trained to behave like this? Was the Ion she knew really Ion himself or just a replica performing his role for everyone's benefit? Had it all been some strange act he put on? Surely, at some point, he had become himself. Surely that sweet, gentle Ion was truly a kind person and not just a puppet on a string. He had died for his own reasons, not for Mohs' cruel plan. There was no way she could accept that her Ion may have been nothing more than a rebellious doll. Although there were times when Ion seemed so distant she couldn't even touch him. There were times when his smile was cryptic and he had hidden so many cruel truths about himself from her. Did she ever truly understand Ion and his struggles? Perhaps she had been far too arrogant thinking that she knew him so well.

Florian noticed something was odd about Anise, but ignored it for the sake of the orphans. He had never seen small children before. The way they watched him with such admiration and love made him feel self conscious. So, this was what it was like to be a Fon Master in front of his followers? It was nice, in a way, and he could see why one could enjoy the role. Being adored was much better than the cold looks he got in the hallways. However, he knew that he didn't want this role no matter how benefiting it could be. To be a Fon Master meant reading the Score. The hairs on his arms and legs stood on end at the memory of how much his body burned with every word. His predecessor must have suffered that pain so many times.

He barely noticed when the play ended and the children clapped happily. He was pleased with their cheery faces, but wasn't sure that they had done a good enough job to deserve the praise. Florian refrained from shifting uncomfortably as he took his bow, maintaining the regal and pious air of a proper Fon Master for their sake.

Anise was gone from the stage now since her character had died in the play and he wanted to retreat back to see her, but he quickly found himself surrounded by the children asking him questions and touching his robes. Florian flushed softly as he tried to maintain his composure. After all, it wasn't him they wanted. It was Master Ion they needed to give them hope.

He laughed softly at the children, being careful with them and tenderly comforting the little ones with bits of scripture that he felt was applicable to their problems. Honestly, he felt that he could tell them the sky was purple and they would have believed it from the way they hung on his every word. He was glad that Pamela had taught him how to be gentle and Oliver told him what kindness was. It made playing the part of the benevolent Fon Master much easier. Although, one question plagued him.

"I hope you don't mind me asking a strange question of you now," he said as gently as possible, "What is an orphan?" The children looked at him in confusion before a bold little boy with dark blue hair spoke up.

"An orphan is someone who doesn't have a mommy or daddy," he said, "Our families are gone." Florian chewed over that information for a moment before smiling at them.

"Did you know that I'm an orphan, too?" he asked as if he was sharing a secret with them. The children gasped in awe at the similarity between themselves and the Fon Master. He nodded in confirmation. "I don't have a mother or father, either." He said, ignoring the part that he never biologically had one to begin with. "But… a family is a group of people who love and care for you… right?" The children nodded in confirmation of Florian's assumption.

"Then, I think… maybe… I have a family," he said, glancing in the direction of Pamela who had been watching over him from the back of the cathedral. The other adventurers had retreated to greet Anise, he assumed. "They found me. We're not related… I don't call them mommy or daddy, but I'd like to think they're my…" He felt his voice shift to his more soft spoken and hesitant tone before quickly recovering. He smiled confidently for the children. "I'm sure you'll find families, too. After all, you've already found each other, right? Don't lose hope, ok? You have to be optimistic to overcome Yulia's challenges." The little ones smiled. Their eyes brightened with awe and hope that they, too, could rise and become like the Fon Master they so admired.

"Oh, Florian…" the maternal woman whispered softly. Pamela felt a tear come to her eye as she listened to Florian speak to the children, clasping her hands lightly over her chest. "Yulia has truly sent us a sweet miracle…"

Ok, children, that's enough!" their caretaker called, "It's time to go home!" This was met with objections and whines from the children. To soothe them, Florian told them they could come and visit again sometime. This was greeted by an array of cheers that caused his ears to ring as their high pitched squeals broke the sound barrier, but he smiled. Perhaps, every now and then, he could pretend to be Fon Master. Just for a little while.

He watched the organized chaos of children and caretaker retreat, all yelling back their thanks and farewells. Florian just sat passively and waved at them with a gentle smile. When the door shut he sighed and slumped back against the stage, knowing it was safe to be Florian again. He noted the approving look Pamela gave him and blushed bashfully. Once she had retreated from the room to see the children off, he stood and quietly made his way out the backstage.

"… and Mieu got all the applause in the end," Anise had just finished complaining about the whole ordeal to her companions. Mieu seemed to take that as praise for some reason.

"But I was happy when you protected me," Florian said softly, blushing when everyone turned to look at him suddenly. Anise hesitated as she wracked her brain for what he was talking about before remembering the devil in the play's sacrifice to save the first Fon Master.

"That was just part of the story," Anise said slowly, relieved to see Florian being himself again. She felt some of her tension relax even though the experience left her with much to think about later in regards to Ion, Florian and what it meant to be a replica.

"But I was happy," Florian said again, feeling shy under her confused gaze. Somehow, he assumed he wasn't communicating his feelings well, but it was the best he could manage. Anise finally laughed awkwardly at him.

"Oh, well," she said dismissively, seeming to have decided that it was worth the embarrassment if it made Florian happy, as strange as it was. She and the others laughed together and Florian found himself chuckling quietly as well. Even if he lacked the ability to thoroughly explain himself and the complexities of his feelings surrounding the church that had taken him in, he was happy. Very happy, indeed.

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Yar. This is a lot longer than I intended it to be.


	3. The Last Ion

Wow, this one turned out even longer than the last. Hopefully I won't keep doing this, but sometimes you just have to go with it... This chapter is mostly about Florian trying to figure out who Ion really was and trying to deal with living with those still mourning his loss. This is the last chapter (I plan on) featuring actual scenes in the game. I took a little bit of extra license with it since I wasn't sure when exactly Ion's memorial service is, but whatever.

Note: Reread and noticed some mistakes/changed a few minute things that don't really effect the story, but I felt it flowed better and made a little more sense.

Thanks for the reviews. Without them and the favorited notices, I wouldn't think anyone was reading this. XD I'm writing this for myself and not for anyone's praise, but I would like some feedback on whether I'm developing characters well or not. Also, suggestions are much appreciated. I wasn't planning on doing anything with Sync until someone mentioned him and it actually inspired a lot for the next chapter. So, I encourage people to speak up and make requests. You never know what might tickle my muse. ;)

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**_*~The Last Ion~*_**

The Order of Lorelei was a quiet, somber place at any given time of the day. Every ounce of atmosphere was devoted to peaceful meditation on the Score and Yulia's teachings. The pious members of the church normally spent their time discussing the latest scripture they had read or how to more readily observe the Score despite the radical changes the world was facing. Within the softly lit halls it was easy to forget the outside world and all the horrors befalling the neighboring kingdoms. However, there was an ever present reminder of the great losses and chaos surrounding Daath that most had come to accept or at least tolerate.

Florian ambled through the halls of the order, smiling brightly at anyone that would give him the time of day. He had finally mastered basic manners and was allowed to spend limited time practicing social conduct providing he stayed within the church and out of trouble. The young replica enjoyed the new freedom to explore his home very much though he rarely strayed from areas Oliver, Pamela or Trithiem hadn't personally shown him. Even if he had grown a great deal in terms of bravery and confidence, he still was not ready to challenge anything outside his established comfort zone. Florian had become very familiar with the daily life of the order and found himself forgetting at times that he was a replica and not a regular member. No one spoke of Ion when he was nearby. Until today, that was.

Not a single conversation he had overheard so far lacked the words "Ion" or "Fon Master" being spoken at least once. When he was noticed, the members would silence themselves and try to amend any offense by asking him about his day or the Tatlins. Florian accepted the change in topics with some reluctance. It put him on edge for many reasons he couldn't begin to list that Ion was the central topic of the day and he couldn't imagine why. Pamela and Oliver had been strange that morning, too, when he thought about it. They had been the ones to suggest he spend some time exploring because they would be busy helping Tritheim with a special assignment. Florian sighed at the fact his excitement to go play had taken precedence of what was, in hindsight, a very important matter. He felt a pout tug at his lips and allowed it, not being one to think to ever hide his feelings as he sulked down the hall.

"Goodness, Oliver, be careful with that." Pamela's voice was unmistakable to Florian. He perked up at the opportunity to go question his caretakers and followed the sound eagerly. His feet barely made a sound against the hard, stone floor as he scrambled upstairs and was sorely disappointed to find himself standing in front of the Fon Master's room. Unhappily he peeked inside to see the couple sorting through drawers and boxes. The round, matronly woman was chiding her husband pleasantly as they gutted the room. Florian leaned further into the doorway as he saw strange, foreign items and important looking documents among other odd bobbles. Somehow the ominous room didn't seem so bad if the Tatlins were inside it.

"Florian?" Oliver gave a start when he saw the boy, glancing at his wife uncertainly. The woman's pouty lips curved into a concerned frown. "What are you doing here?"

"I heard you," Florian said as he kept his dark jade gaze on the boxes, "It's easy to hear noises in the hallways."

"It is, is it?" Oliver said more than asked with a sheepish laugh. Florian looked up at the man, his eyes wide with curiosity and brows folded upwards in concern.

"Why are you doing this?" he asked, searching the couple for answers in their body language more than their words. The Tatlins were nervous as if he'd just caught them in the middle of some secret act.

"Well… Florian, as you know, Fon Master Ion has…" Oliver seemed uncomfortable as he searched for a gentler word, but the replica knew the concern wasn't for his feelings so much as it was painful on the man to say. "He has passed on and we need to do something with what he had left behind…"

"Trithiem says that soon they will need to have another Fon Master and we should clear the room out," Pamela added, smiling softly at Florian.

"You're making room for his replacement," Florian said, barely taking notice of the flinch in the Tatlins and regretted the hurt look on their faces.

"Oh, Florian, Ion could never be replaced," Pamela said sadly, "The same way you can never be replaced…" The green haired child only made a soft noise in confirmation he heard her, but wasn't moved by her words as he looked back at the boxes. Not that he could ever think badly of Pamela and was confident she always had the best intentions. He simply knew better. Pamela looked to her husband for help.

"How would you like to help us?" Oliver asked instead of trying to argue with the replica, "Would you like to get to know Ion… our Ion?" he added quickly before Florian could bring up the fact there was more than one. He knew the boy never meant to be cruel, but the reminder of what their Ion must have secretly suffered as a replacement was still very painful.

"He's dead," Florian said, gracing Oliver with a puzzled expression, "Why does it matter?"

"People tend to like to remember those that are close to them," the man said, running a hand through his hair as he tried to figure out how to explain it, "I know that you never met Ion, but I figured that since you had a similar birth, you might consider him to be your brother of sorts…"

"Brother…?" Florian frowned at the word and the strange discomfort it caused in his heart. His eyes traveled away from the Tatlins as he chewed over the notion. Much of it seemed farfetched, but there was a part of him that wondered about the Ion that meant so much to Anise. Slowly he nodded and turned back to smile at Oliver and Pamela. "Yeah," he said, "I want to help you."

"Wonderful," Pamela said happily, finally moving over to guide the boy near some boxes so they could get to work. She tried to make sure Florian was close to her as they went through the room, but he could tell little of her attention was actually on him. Nearly every item the couple pulled out had some sort of fond memory of their Ion. "Oh, remember when…" she would blissfully begin her stories, but the green haired boy had started to tune her out. He didn't like the wistful, loving tone her voice took when it came to his predecessor. He didn't like how she and Oliver would swoon over how wonderful Ion was, and how thoughtful Ion was. How perfect Ion had been in every way. He especially didn't like how many stories they apparently had of Ion and Anise spending long hours together in this very room.

Florian sulked unhappily as the Tatlins lost themselves in their pleasant memories, not taking any notice of him at all anymore. The replica felt something in his heart twist bitterly and quickly decided he did not like Ion at all. While they swooned over their beloved Ion, the boy noticed a purple, rod of some importance poking out of one of the boxes Oliver had been sorting and was instantly compelled to act. Without warning he practically lunged on the box, gripping the handle and pulled lose a sinister looking staff. Oliver instinctively reached for the boy and was startled by the replica's agility. Florian was out the door before a word could be said, laughing happily as a wave of exhilaration gripped him and he ran full speed down the nearest hall.

"F-Florian?" Oliver started before rising and giving chase, wondering what could have possessed the normally well behaved child to do such a thing, "Wait! Someone…!" Despite the call for help, the other ecclesiastics were quick to step out of the boy's way and watched him go in partial disbelief.

Oliver wasn't sure if he was more impressed or frustrated by Florian's stamina. He had always assumed that the replica would be just as fragile and sickly as the others had been, but that didn't seem to be the case at all. The man was quickly becoming more and more aware of his fading youth as they darted through the halls in a large circle that emptied into the main lobby.

"Oliver! Over here!" Florian laughed, twisting his body around to taunt Oliver cheerfully. Just as the man started to catch up, he turned on his heel and sprinted off again. The haggard man stumbled to a stop, horrified that his charge had yet to even lose his breath.

"Wait, Florian!" he wheezed out, "That belongs to Ion!" When he saw that the boy had already scaled the stairs and was peering down at him from the highest balcony, Oliver debated having a heart attack and ending his misery right there.

"Papa!" a high pitched voice quipped, amused and perplexed at the same time, "What are you doing?" Oliver turned his head in time to see Anise and the other worldly adventurers saunter through the doorway.

"Oh… we were just sorting out Fon Master Ion's belongings," Oliver gasped out between breaths, "and then Florian suddenly grabbed one of them and ran off…"

"So you're chasing him?" Luke asked dubiously, trying to keep his voice and expression even as he watched the man struggle for breath. Somehow, the redhead didn't think Oliver was going to make it at this rate.

"Anise!" Florian cheered happily from the balcony, finally taking notice of his precious friend. His face brightened at his new, brilliant idea. "Let's play tag! You're it!" Oliver groaned softly. If he had known Florian would turn playtime against them he would have never taught the boy such a game. Anise rolled her eyes, knowing her father was too much of a pushover to get Florian back under control.

"Florian!" she shouted up at the boy, hands going to her hips as she leaned her upper body forward to project her frustration better. Florian could swear he saw her pigtails flare out from temper and partially ducked behind the railing for shelter. "We don't have time for that right now!"

"Well, there's nothing wrong with taking a break every now and then," Jade suddenly interjected, pushing his glasses back with one finger so the light glinted off the lenses smartly. His mouth thinned into a polite demon's smile. Anise whipped her head to stare up at the Malkuth military man on her left with a look that spoke volumes for her suspicion.

"You must have a reason for saying that…" the blonde swordsman to the right commented, sparing a sideways glance at Jade. Guy knew that the Necromancer wouldn't be interested in a child's game unless he could benefit in some way.

"So, let's play a little game of tag!" Jade said brightly as if Guy said nothing, "Or would it be hide-and-seek?" This earned a further narrowing of eyes and suspicious glares from the other members of the group.

"All right!" the feisty redhead all but cheered as he stepped forward, bringing his arms up to his waist and clenching his fists enthusiastically. He was the only one who didn't seem to notice or at least didn't care about Jade's motives. His grin widened into a smirk as he looked up at Florian. "I didn't spend my whole life stuck in a manor for nothing! You're so mine!"

"Luke…" Guy said with a sigh and weak chuckle at his friend's excitement. He could only shrug and shake his head as the younger man took off for the stairs.

"Master, wait for me! Meiu!" the cheagle floated as quickly as he could to keep pace with Luke.

"How childish," the blonde princess sniffed as she folded her arms and watched as Florian gave a start upstairs then took off to some unknown area of the church. She gave a sharp glance towards the instigator at fault. "What's your purpose?"

"Why, you say that as though I'm the sort of person to have ulterior motives," Jade said in mock hurt, "I believe it will be good for all of us to have a bit of fun, don't you? Besides, the whole reason for our arrival was Anise's worry over Florian's well being." Anise flushed.

"I just don't want to risk mama and papa teaching him something stupid!" the girl objected, "Colonel, don't try to imply something." Oliver internally winced.

"I'm right here still…" he mumbled unhappily at his daughter's lack of faith in him and Pamela, "I can hear everything…" Either Anise didn't hear or didn't care.

"Whatever!" she said before smirking, "There's no way I'm losing to Luke. I'll catch Florian first!"

"Oh, so it's a competition now?" Guy said more than asked, a hand to his chin as he smirked, "In that case, prepare to be awed by my amazing skills. Who do you think it was that had to go find Luke when he hid around the manor?"

"Don't brag," Natalia objected, "I was able to find Luke just as easily as you. Besides, I'm a well trained hunter…" She gestured to her bow. Tear could only stare on at the budding contest, starting to feel a bit concerned.

"Somehow, I feel like hunting game and playing with a child shouldn't be compared…" she said softly to herself, knowing the others weren't about to listen.

"After you, princess," Guy said, bowing with an elegant hand to invite her to go first. Heels clacking swiftly against the floor, Natalia set off determined to win against Luke and Guy no matter what. Once everyone had dispersed, Tear sighed and looked over at Jade.

"You aren't going?" she inquired. Jade chuckled.

"Playing games is for young people," he said, "Although, I suppose I could act as referee." The long haired woman suppressed another sigh.

Florian grinned as he darted down the hall, enjoying the sound of his heart beating in time with his breathing. He felt good. Playing with the war orphans the order supported had made his body more durable, he assumed, since not long before he could barely walk the length of the church without needing a breather. Florian dismissed his thoughts when he heard the thumping of boots against the floor. With a grin he ducked behind one of the armors and was startled when it jumped away from him. He couldn't see the Oracle Knight's expression, but could feel the stranger's eyes staring down at him in disbelief. Florian looked up at the man desperately, his eyes unintentionally begging as he put a finger over his lips. With a hesitation the knight settled back into place, wondering what on earth had caused the replica to choose him as a hiding spot.

Guy mounted the stairs smartly, looking around with his sharp blue gaze. He lightly cupped his chin in his hand thoughtfully, having sworn he saw a flash of green over the banister a few moments ago. From his calculations it would make sense for Florian to be here about now as well judging from the child's earlier direction and speed. When he caught sight of the knights standing guard he smiled and raised a hand in greeting.

"Excuse me, gentlemen," he said smoothly, charm practically radiating from his smile, "Have you seen a kid with green hair run past here? My friends and I are looking for him."

"Ah…" one of the guards started, glancing over to his partner. There was a brief silence before the other knight shifted his shield against closer against him.

"Yes," he finally said, "I believe he was heading towards the kitchens…"

"Thanks," Guy said with a good natured salute then jogged down the hall. When the coast was clear, Florian carefully removed himself from behind the shield and smiled up at the knight happily. He bowed politely to his helper then took off in the opposite direction Guy had, not bothering to explain himself.

"Oh, this is so much harder than I thought it would be," Natalia said with a sigh as she ported in from downstairs. Florian had to scramble behind a corner to avoid being caught, clamping a hand over his mouth as he pressed himself flat against the wall. The princess huffed and flipped some of her hair out of the way. "If only there was a trail or broken branches I could follow…" she mused.

"Yeah, well, this place isn't anything like the forest," Anise said, stepping out from behind the regal blonde. She grinned like the cat that ate the canary. "I know all the good hiding spots around here. This will be easy for me with a home field advantage."

"It's an unfair advantage," Natalia said with a frown, "Hardly worth boasting about."

"Boo!" Anise inflated her cheeks with a pout. "You're just upset that I'm going to win! And you should have known better before challenging me here."

"Well, I for one have to wonder exactly why you know all the hiding spots," Natalia said with a sly grin, "Skimping your duties? You'll never find a rich man to marry if you take short cuts like that. Men like a productive woman."

"Hey, I'm a hard worker," Anise objected, hands on her hips again as the girls bickered. They were so wrapped up in their own fussing they didn't notice when Florian slipped by and went through a door on the other side of the room. The boy was feeling pretty good about himself and chuckled softly as he scrambled along the passageway, coming out into the library.

"Think you're pretty clever, huh?" Florian froze and was able to hear the smirk in Luke's voice before he even turned around. He spun on his heel and saw nothing. Looking around revealed no one was there, either, until he happened to chance a glance upwards. The boy gawked in awe as Luke fon Fabre, in all his glory, stood atop one of the book shelves. "Gotcha!"

"Master, you did it!" Mieu squealed as he hovered over the older boy's shoulder.

"Why…?" Florian managed after a few moments of staring. Luke was happy the boy had asked, knowing there were few things he was a master of, and relishing in the fact he got to be the one on the explaining end for once.

"I figured you'd come here," Luke said, obviously satisfied with his own cleverness, "Everyone knows bookshelves and garden mazes are the best places to hide in."

"Master is so smart," the blue creature gushed, not seeming to mind that he was being thoroughly ignored by the replicas.

"I mean… why are you on the shelf?" Florian asked slowly.

"Well, Va… My old teacher used to tell me that getting the high ground gave you an advantage," Luke said, "Besides, I can see everything from up here…"

"What are you doing? Get down from there this instant!" a cleric hissed angrily up at the noble, causing the pair to jump, "This is a place of study and worship, not gymnastics or whatever you're doing." Luke felt his cheeks turn pink and a bead of sweat go down the back of his neck as he looked down at the cleric. Maybe he had gotten carried away just a little bit.

"A-Ah… Yeah, sorry," Luke mumbled as he climbed down, looking at the older man sheepishly, "We were playing a game and…"

"Playing a game? You're disturbing everyone," the man said, puffing himself up to give the boys a good scolding. Florian winced and hid behind Luke to use the teen as a shield. The redhead briefly had the childish notion to drag the other replica out and make him take the blame, too, but sighed and pushed the idea away.

"Sorry, sir, it was my fault," Luke said, "Don't get mad at Florian, alright? He's just a kid."

"Mieuuu…" Meiu whined unhappily as if he was the one being scolded instead of his master and Florian.

"Florian?" the man blinked at Luke as if the noble was out of his mind. The redhead hesitated before turning around and felt his reality flip upside down when he saw no one was there. His mind reeled as he turned back to the man, fumbling for an explanation.

"D-Didn't you see him? He was right here!" he babbled, "Like, right behind me. You had to have seen him!"

"You're in enough trouble as it is without trying to make up ridiculous excuses," the cleric said, folding his arms across his chest as he prepared to release his full fury on the boy.

"Sorry," Florian whispered softly from where he had quietly slipped under one of the study tables and crawled to the opposite end of the library. He felt a little guilty for letting Luke take the fall, but he didn't want the game to end just yet. With that in mind, he quietly left the library, vaguely noting the sound of Meiu squealing his support for the young master. Florian decided to head for the warp pad, having an idea of where he could hide. He enjoyed the tingling sensation of being warped while he stepped on the yellow, circular glyph and closed his eyes.

"Oho." A firm hand was placed on the boy's shoulder when he landed. Florian nearly jumped out of his skin as he turned his wide eyes up to meet an amused, crimson gaze. Jade smiled. "It looks like Tear is the winner."

"I wasn't really playing…" Tear said but once again knew she might as well be talking to herself. Florian opened his mouth then quickly shut it again when no response came out. He felt disappointed that the game was over and sulked softly at being caught. "Don't worry, Florian, you did a good job," Tear said, her expression cool and serious, but her words were warm for him. The boy blinked at her before smiling happily with a modest giggle. He noticed a slight pinkening of the woman's cheeks and she put a hand to her mouth as if to suppress some sort of outburst. He stared curiously at the woman and tilted his head to the side, noticing for some reason this worsened her flush.

"You… are you ill or embarrassed?" Florian asked innocently, truly concerned he had done something to upset the woman or endanger her health. The brunette shook her head a little more forcefully than she intended, sending her long locks whipping about her waist.

"N-No, don't worry about it," she said as she attempted to will her voice into a more militaristic tone. Jade chuckled, gaining Florian's attention and earning a slight cringe from the female.

"Tear has an infatuation of sorts with things she finds cute," Jade explained much to the girl's horror. He ignored her indignant protest of his name, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose again. "Fear not. The only harm it could do is to her pride."

"Does pride hurt when it is harmed?" Florian asked, his lips curving into a small frown.

"An interesting question," Jade said almost as if praising the boy, but to Tear it sounded like mockery. Then again, everything sounded like mockery when it came from the Necromancer. "Pride does indeed hurt. It can cause many problems and pain, but it is something valuable to most people because it gives them self worth." The blank look on Florian's face told him that he'd already lost the boy. "Well, you'll understand when you start to gain things that are important to you. Do not strain yourself."

"Pamela and Oliver are important to me," Florian said with all the love a child could possess, "And Anise."

"That's so…" Tear started, her voice unintentionally hitting a higher octave before she could suppress herself again. She coughed then smiled at the boy as she spoke more sedately. "It's good to have people important to you. Make sure to cherish that." Florian bobbed his head up and down, noticing a strange sadness in her tone, but he didn't understand enough to read any deeper meanings in her statement.

"Aw, man, looks like I lost," Guy said as he sauntered up to the group, hand resting against the sheath of his sword lazily. Despite this, he had a content smile on his face and seemed to be enjoying himself on some nostalgic level.

"So it seems," Jade agreed, "I do hope you're ready for your penalty."

"What?" Guy's face contorted into alarm then irritation. "We never agreed to a penalty if you lose!"

"Guy, it is disgraceful to whine in the face of defeat," Jade said rather than arguing the point. His expression and voice was stern now as he regarded the young man. "Consider this a lesson in humility for when you retake your title as Count. A noble must show grace and dignity at all times. Perhaps you have forgotten this after living as Luke's servant so long…" Guy winced at the reminder of how his future was in many ways resting in Jade's hands. A bad report to Emperor Peony would not bode well for him.

"Fine…" the blonde said as if resigning himself to some horrible fate, "What's the penalty?"

"Go fetch some pastries, if you would," Jade said as evenly as he would while assigning battle positions to his soldiers. Guy decided it was best not to question Jade and submitted to his task with a grunt of confirmation. Florian watched the exchange passively, glancing between the retreating swordsman and fonist for some hint of what exactly had just happened.

"Pastries, colonel…?" Tear asked although she wasn't sure she wanted to know why. The slight tilt of Jade's head and the way the light glinted off his lenses told her that she was better off not knowing for now. "Um… Never mind."

"Ah, there you are!" Natalia said as she rounded the same corner Guy had disappeared behind moments before. She hid her disappointment at losing the game easily with all the elegance of a princess. "Guy told me that you won, Tear. Congratulations."

"It was all a matter of ascertaining the most tactically advantageous position," Tear said simply, "I figured it was only a matter of time before Florian would be forced to use the warp pad in one direction or another. In order to stop this silliness, catching him seemed like the best course of action."

"Ah, I see," Natalia said, not missing a beat, but it was hard to tell if she really did see the rational or not. She instead turned her attention to Florian. "You are very nimble to have avoided me despite my training. I have a new respect for you." Florian ducked his head shyly.

"I wonder the halls a lot so I know them well," he said with a tiny blush. Natalia nodded her approval.

"It is good to know the layout of your home," she said, "I hope one day you take the time to learn the layout of Daath and its people so you can learn to support them."

"Natalia, I don't think Florian wants to become Fon Master from what I understand," Tear said. Natalia waved a hand to dismiss the explanation.

"It doesn't matter," she said before smiling with all the confidence and love she had for her own kingdom, "No matter what your position in the world, you should know your home and try to improve it with your own hands." Florian's mouth dropped open in a small 'o' as he listened to the regal woman. He could almost see her passion and spirit radiating around her.

"I want to!" Florian said brightly, raising his hand like an eager volunteer, suddenly enthusiastic as if Natalia's determination had infected him as well, "I want to do that. That's what Anise is doing right now, right?"

"Anise is doing what she can," Natalia said with an approving nod, folding her arms thoughtfully across her chest, "So, you must do what you can as well."

"I don't know what I can do…" Florian said, his smile deflating.

"Right now, just being here for Anise is enough," Tear finally said, looking down at the boy fondly, "She already seems to be in better spirits just from seeing you." The replica blinked, staring into the girl's bright, clear blue eyes to confirm the truth of her statement. He smiled softly to himself and fiddled with his robe.

"I want to make her happy…" he said shyly but honestly, "I'll do my best to make Anise smile a lot. I also like it when Tear smiles. So, I'll try to be here for you, too." Tear stared at the boy in shock for a moment before she had to turn away, both hands over her mouth as she tried to refrain from outright hugging the boy. Natalia chuckled softly.

"One day you might be quite the sweet talker," she observed, "Hopefully you won't turn out like Guy."

"Hmph, sweet, yeah…" a loud voice grumbled as Luke approached the group with a sulky expression. After the way the boy had ditched him, the noble was starting to have doubts about just how innocent Florian was.

"Luke, don't use that kind of tone with Florian," Tear said defensively as if she'd been the one personally attacked, "He's just a little kid." Luke winced, recognizing it as the same scolding tone she took when he picked on Meiu.

"Ok, ok, I didn't mean it," the redhead tried to soothe her before she could release a full blown nagging session on him. His expression softened. "That was pretty fun, though. I haven't played like that in forever!"

"Boo, am I the last one?" Anise called as she trotted up to her friends with a pout, "No way! Even with the home field advantage…"

"Well, Guy is missing…" Luke commented as he craned his neck to look for his former servant.

"I sent him on a little errand," Jade said simply, ignoring the suspicious look he received from Luke.

"Oh, well," Anise finally said before turning to smile at Florian, "Found you!" The boy giggled.

"That was fun," he said cheerfully. His chime like voice softened some of the weariness from the adventurers' hearts. It had been far too long since they had heard true laughter. Florian gripped the all but forgotten staff in his hands tighter from excitement.

"Could this be a planetary arte catalyst…?" Tear asked, switching back to business mode when she noticed the vile looking object in his hands. Florian blinked and looked down at the staff as if it might jump to life and tell them its secrets.

"Here you are!" Pamela said, shuffling down the hall. She was slightly out of breath and displayed a small, disapproving frown. "I was looking for you, Florian!" The replica's expression became reminiscent of a guilty puppy.

"Mama, was this staff Ion's?" Anise asked, ignoring any trouble Florian had caused for her parents.

"What? Well, yes, it is…" Pamela said, catching her breath while she recalled the origin of the staff in question. Florian glanced down at the strange object in his hand, taking the time to examine it himself. He felt a small shiver run through him when he realized that it seemed to be moving and pulsating like a living thing. Why anyone would honestly want such a horrible looking thing was beyond him.

"Mama, can we borrow this?" Anise eventually asked.

"That's not something I can decide, Anise," Pamela said as firmly as she could, hoping her daughter wouldn't try to fight her on this. She knew how much of a struggle Anise could put up when she wanted her way. Luckily for the mother, any objections the pigtailed girl had were quickly cut off.

"Let's ask Tritheim about it," Jade said. He was not interested in wasting any more time now that they had achieved their goal.

"Florian, let's go back to our room, ok?" Pamela asked in a tone that wasn't a request. Florian knew he was in trouble but for some reason didn't feel guilty even though he didn't like making Pamela upset at him.

"Okay," Florian agreed reluctantly. He hesitated when Anise stepped forward to recover the staff and glanced briefly at Natalia, remembering her words. His face brightened into a smile as he held the staff out to her. "Anise, let's play again sometime!"

"Oh… Of course," Anise said, a bit surprised by his enthusiasm, but couldn't say no to his smile even if she wanted to. The Fon Master Guardian found herself smiling as well while taking the staff. "I'll talk to you later, okay? We're going to be staying here for a little while anyways." Florian bobbed his head up and down in agreement, nearly skipping as he followed after Pamela despite the lecture waiting for him down the hall.

The boy's good mood had yet to fade as he set to work in their bedroom cleaning it without being told. He carefully straightened the bed he had been using and made sure all of Anise's things were in place. The last thing Florian wanted was for her to have any reason to be upset when she got back. Florian hurried to help Pamela with dinner once he had finished, humming softly to himself.

Pamela sighed, knowing that her earlier scolding had gone to waste, but she was happy to see Florian so chipper. Once her husband returned she and Oliver quietly agreed to let the episode slide in favor of celebrating Anise being home for the night. As things settled down to a lull while they waited for the girl in question, Florian suddenly realized something was off. Anise and her friends never stayed in Daath any longer than necessary. He couldn't think of a single deviation from this until today. The fact that Oliver and Pamela had been in such a hurry to clear out the Fon Master's room combined with the overall mood of the Order that day only made him more suspicious.

"Oliver?" he inquired, no longer able to stand the mystery. He waited until the man had found a place to stop in his book and the tired eyes rolled up to meet Florian. When the replica was confident he had Oliver's full attention he continued. "What is happening? Everyone is odd today."

"Odd?" Oliver inquired, wondering what exactly the boy had picked up on. He noticed Pamela turning to look at them worriedly from the kitchen out of the corner of his eye.

"Odd," Florian repeated, "Everyone is talking about the Fon Master. You and Pamela took his things and Anise is visiting instead of just passing through…" Oliver sighed and closed his book, setting it to the side wearily. He leaned forward, resting most of his upper body's weight on his elbows while he regarded Florian thoughtfully. His eyes searched the boy almost as if he'd secretly had the answer all along.

"Florian," he said in an unnecessary move to get the replica's full attention, "Tomorrow will be a very important day for the Order. We are having a memorial service for Fon Master Ion." The boy swayed back slightly as if a strong wind had blown him off center.

"Which Ion?" he asked, voice softer now but there was a strange edge to it Oliver had never heard in him before. He watched for any warning signs as he gently continued, having expected the question.

"We don't know how many Ions there were," he admitted, "It's a memorial to which ever Ion you would like to think of. Memorials tend to mean many different things to different people." Florian wasn't satisfied by this and Oliver could tell from the stiffening of the green haired child's posture. However, Florian didn't question the honesty of Oliver's words. He made a soft noise to confirm he had heard then turned away to busy himself with something else.

"Florian…" Pamela started softly, words dying on her lips as she watched the small retreating form. She sighed and clasped her hands together in a silent prayer.

Florian pretended he hadn't heard as he dragged out one of the study books Trithiem had given him. He tried to read, but none of the words held any meaning to him while his mind wandered. Tomorrow the Fon Master would officially be dead. Two years had passed and now the world would know that the highest rank in the Order of Lorelei was gone. However, that Ion wasn't the one Anise and the others would be morning. The Ion they loved and respected was a replica wearing the persona of Ion. What had been so special about the replica that originals would mourn something disposable? Mohs had never mourned the others. No one had ever mourned them because they were disposable. Why was this Ion worth mourning over?

Florian didn't notice how tightly he had been gripping his book until his fingers began to throb. Slowly he unclenched his hands and allowed his eyes to wander from the book as if he no longer recognized the room he was in. They traced the corners of the little room and old, arranged dolls that were ever waiting patiently for their owner. His gaze lingered on them and felt a strange kinship with Anise's toys. All of them were waiting for the time when someone would pick them up to be used again. Always waiting for someone.

Before now he had been waiting in that room for Mohs to collect him. How long he had waited was a mystery. For all he knew it could have been days or years with no windows and no concept of time to aid the newborn replica. Only when Mohs had dropped by to quiz the boy on his purpose and how to fill the role of Fon Master did Florian have someone talk to him. In a strange way, he had loved the maestro, but it wasn't the kind of love that filled him with happiness. It was the kind of love an animal would have for the person that fed and watered them. He longed desperately for Mohs to praise him and was unhindered by any insults he had to bare so long as Mohs would look at him and tell the boy he had a purpose. Even if that purpose was something which now filled him with anxiety and had killed so many of the others. The purpose that had killed Anise's Ion.

Florian had to turn away from the dolls, knowing that it wasn't the same. The dolls had been loved and did not need to worry about being thrown away once their purpose was fulfilled. They were still cared for and had a place in the home. It wasn't the same thing at all. His eyes almost magnetically locked onto a box sitting not far away. He recognized that box and shuddered with a deep longing for it. He had seen Pamela and Oliver lovingly fill it with Ion's old, personal belongings. Soundlessly, he felt himself move to it and kneel next to the box, glancing back to make sure the Tatlins were too focused on their own matters before opening the lid.

Inside were several texts and bobbles the Fon Master had received as gifts from the neighboring kingdoms and less valuable items he had taken a liking to. Some, Florian imagined, were probably gifts from favorite Fon Master Guardians. The boy's hands were quick but delicate as if he already knew what he was looking for. Near the bottom was a small stack of papers crudely held together by a folded piece of leather and a red string. Florian carefully pulled out the papers as though handling a priceless relic. He retreated from the box, clutching his new treasure against him protectively and keeping his back to the Tatlins.

Once he was certain no one was coming to take the papers from him, he untied the string and pushed back a leather flap. He took in a soft breath when he saw the name scribbled across the first page.

"Ion…" Florian said softly as he shifted through the papers without honestly reading. He marveled at the chicken scratch that made up the first series of writings and appreciated seeing the slow progress the writer had made in learning how to properly use the pen. Then, without warning, it was barely legible again. Florian was quiet a moment before checking the date on the entry. Two years ago this had been written. Intrigued, he scanned over the crude entry.

_"My name is Ion," _it began, _"Ion is my name. I will be called Ion. Please, call me Ion. Ion is what I reply to. If you say Ion, I should answer. Because I am Ion. Since this book has my name, it is mine." _Florian stared at the message long and hard, rereading it several times. He understood it. Having a name was wonderful. Not long ago, he felt the same novelty in saying his own name and having someone else call him by it. Florian tore his eyes from the book to look back over his shoulder at the Tatlins again, suddenly feeling as if just by being near him right now they were trespassing on something important. He carefully refolded the leather around the papers and hid it in his robes. He silently padded to the exit, only looking up to announce his departure once he was half way through it.

"I'm going out for a bit," he said.

"Florian, Anise and her friends should be here soon," Pamela objected.

"I want to go out for a bit," Florian said, voice softening. Oliver looked up at the boy before smiling his weary, gentle smile.

"Be back soon," he said kindly, "I know this has to be hard on you. Just don't go outside the Order, ok? Even the courtyard could be dangerous this time of night." Florian only nodded in agreement before hurrying out the door. His feet moved so fast against the stone floor that he almost felt he was flying. If anyone spoke to him, he didn't hear. He could only hear his heart beating in his ears and robes swishing impatiently with every step. There was only one place he wanted to be at that moment and for once did not hesitate to enter the Fon Master's room. He had to stop for a moment to confirm it was the same place. It was mostly stripped of anything presenting sentimental value. He could swear some more valuable items were also missing, but didn't linger on the thought. Plopping himself in the desk chair he folded his legs under his bottom to get comfortable and snuggled down with his prize.

_"Today is a Lunaday. I must pick a Fon Master Guardian," _one of the other early entries said, "_Arietta can't be my guardian. I'm not allowed to talk to her. She was doing something strange. Water came out of her eyes! I was surprised. It looked uncomfortable. I hope her leaking stops soon."_

_"Today is a Ifritday. Fon Master Guardians are all so big and strong. They're scary. Mohs says he found one for me that isn't scary. Her name is Anise and she is very cute. I wonder if Master Ion liked cute things. I wonder if I should like her. Arietta was cute. So, maybe he did like cute things. Then I will like cute things, too."_ Florian stopped a moment, wondering who exactly Arietta was. Somehow that name felt familiar, but it had probably only been in passing he caught wind of it.

_"Today is a Undineday. Master Ion does not like carrots, so I cannot like carrots. Master Ion speaks softly, so I must not be loud. Master Ion's body is weak, so I cannot run. I'm not sure what his favorite food is. I need to find out quickly. Anise keeps making me lunch and I don't know if I am supposed to like it or not." _The replica idly began to toy with one of the long strands of hair running over his shoulder, wishing he could try a lunch Anise had made. Maybe she would make one for him, too.

_"Today is Loreleiday. I read the Score for everyone who came to see me. I'm very tired. We had to stop early because I got tired. Anise was angry at me. But everyone was smiling and thanked me when I read the Score. I feel good when people thank me. I want to read the Score to them every day." _Why anyone would want to read that horrible Score was beyond Florian. He wrinkled his nose at the thought but chose not to linger on his own distastes. He noticed many of the next entries were similar and skipped them, not wanting to think about such matters anymore than he had to.

_"Today is Gnomeday. Anise accidently put a carrot in my lunch today and I liked it. Master Ion's favorite food is tuna, but I don't like fish. It smells bad and has odd texture. I don't know what to say to Mohs. He will be angry with me if I tell him. I don't want to make anyone angry. Mohs has been so kind to me. He calls me special and different from the other six. I don't want him to take back those words." _Florian's heart tightened in his chest. Mohs had never called him special, just useful and necessary if his predecessor continued to cause more trouble. Florian thought of throwing the book away right then, but was compelled to keep reading. However, he felt it was necessary to skip ahead quite a bit.

_"I am very concerned over the political situation regarding Malkuth and Kimlasca. Every day the Oracle Knights report more and more border disputes between the countries. Mohs has told me not to concern myself in these matters where my job is just to be a figure head to the people. Is that really ok? I'm not so certain Mohs is right anymore. As Fon Master I feel like there is something more I should be doing." _The green haired boy checked the date, alarmed by the change in tone from the first entries. Nearly a year had passed between the entries.

_"I've been thinking about the Score lately. Mohs says it is absolute and we must follow it to ensure prosperity. However, I am not in the Score. Day in and day out I read the Score for people to reassure them they are walking the correct path, but the only reference I have is Mohs telling me what to do. If there is no Score for me to follow, what path am I walking? Is it possible there is a path outside of the Score to walk? When I asked Mohs he became very angry with me and had me confined to my room."_

_"Today, Mohs let me leave my room at last. It has been nearly a week since I talked to Anise and it made me realize how lonely I am without her there. She is the only one who knows I don't like tuna. I never told her, but she knows. She never makes a lunch that has tuna in it and, even though it seems meaningless, it makes me very happy. I know she is only doing her job. Still, it makes me feel like I'm a real person when she scolds me and worries about me. Only Anise knows I am a real person and not just the Fon Master." _Florian couldn't help agreeing with the fact that Anise was a great person and worthy of admiration, but somehow it caused his heart to ache realizing that she had been so devoted to the other replica and always at his side. He quietly closed the crude journal and put it on the desk.

For a long time he just stared at the records of his predecessor. That Ion had called himself a person and doubted Mohs. They hadn't been taught to do that. That Ion had his own preferences and opinions that went outside of playing the role of Fon Master. Florian leaned back into the chair, pushing his legs out from under him as if a readjustment in sitting would give him a new perspective to think from.

"But were you ever able to become more than a replica…?" Florian whispered, his gaze never leaving the journal. He wasn't sure how long he sat there waiting for some sort of answer to pop out at him. He barely registered the clicking of a handle being turned before the door opened. With a soft gasp of alarm, Florian dove under the Fon Master's desk, clasping a hand over his mouth to muffle himself.

The door gently eased shut and clicked quietly into place. For an eternity there was silence then the solemn, muffled sound of walking. Florian nearly rose when he recognized the tiny steel tipped boots from under the desk, but something told him he should be still. When the boots were out of sight, he listened. Every sound was slow and heavy as the intruder forced themselves to delve deeper into the room. Florian could imagine those bright brown eyes dimly taking notice of the boxes Oliver and Pamela had packed. However, he knew she wouldn't really be looking at the boxes so much as painful reminders of how cruel progress was. Packed boxes meant that they were moving on and soon it would be as if no Ion had ever been there at all. The sound of clenching fists was deafening in the silence of the virtually empty room.

Anise didn't want to move on. She wanted to rip the boxes apart and put everything back in its place where the masterless possessions could sit and wait for Ion to come home. Then she could pretend that one day he would come bustling through that door with his stacks of papers and flushed cheeks. His face would be blank for a fraction of a second then go from shocked to happy instantly. He would smile pleasantly and apologize for the mess his paper work had caused. He would greet her as if there was no place he would rather her be than at his side. She would scold him for making her worry and try to convince him to take things easier and he would apologize again. Then she would talk to him while he mindlessly signed the papers other maestros had previously approved. Every now and then he would politely stop her so he could read a document that caught his interest before asking her to continue. They would pass peaceful days with the same routine that only differed depending on if they felt like going on a walk or eating with her parents. He would always be at her side with that ever gentle, endlessly patient smile. Not a day would go by without Ion's smile.

"That would be nice…" Anise laughed bitterly at her own foolishness, rubbing the back of her head as if to brush the thoughts away. Her eyes fell on the bed and wondered how many times she had sat beside him while he rested after working too hard. Slowly her body approached the bed and she wondered when the last time was someone changed the sheets. Who had time to worry about changing sheets with everything that had happened? Before the thought even crossed her mind, she flung herself onto the bed, crushing the nearest pillow into her chest as she curled around it. The moment the familiar scent triggered her senses she broke into sobs. Her body twisted tighter around the pillow with all the strength her tiny, battle hardened figure had.

Florian shivered at the heart wrenching noise Anise made. He nearly cried out her name in fear something horrible had happened to her. It was a strangled, choked sound that quickly escalated into a wailing moan. When it dissolved into hitched breathing he nearly relaxed until another partial scream escaped her into the pillow. Florian clamped his hands over his ears as he curled into his knees for comfort. He could still hear the thrashing and incoherent angry rants from the bed and it terrified him. He didn't understand why Anise would do such a thing, but he did understand that it caused his stomach to clench so tight he was glad he hadn't eaten dinner or it might have come back up. His heart was useless led and he was vaguely aware of tears in his own eyes, but he didn't dare make a sound. Neither knew how long they stayed like that. Florian was too frightened to move even long after Anise's tantrum had ceased. He loosened his grip over his ears just enough to listen to her hitched breathing and whimpers, feeling his heart sink deeper into himself every time she called out Ion's name.

Only when it was quiet did Florian feel himself start to stir from his spot. He was numb and barely aware of himself as he maneuvered his way out from under the desk. He remained crouched and held onto the corner of the furniture as if it was the only thing keeping the room in one piece. Anise didn't move. Remaining low to the ground, Florian stealthily crept to the bedside. Anise still hadn't budged and he could hear her breathing again. There was at least one thing he didn't have to worry about. His dark jade eyes barely peeked over the edge to survey ground zero.

The bed sheets had been ripped from the mattress and the pillows that hadn't been trapped in Anise's furious grip were thrashed off the bed. One of the nearby lamps had taken a nasty tumble and a picture was knocked askew by the soft projectiles. The sheets were twisted around her thin legs and body in a desperate attempt to stop her from causing greater harm to her own self or the room. Anise's back was to him and she still hadn't moved. Reassured that he wasn't in immediate danger from her temper, Florian meekly mounted the bed. For the longest time he just sat there, staring at her, lost on what to do. He was suddenly keenly aware of how little he knew about Anise and wished with all his heart he had more experience.

Florian jumped when he felt a slight breeze brush through his hair. He didn't think any of the windows had been open nor had there previously been a draft. The boy twisted sharply as he went on alert for danger at a following rustle. His eyes darted about for the source of the noise and finally settled on the journal that had been abandoned on the desk. He stared blankly at it while he mulled over his options. He had no better source of reference and slipped off the bed. Almost desperately he snatched up the journal and worked off the leather flap. Skimming the pages he flipped across the records of his predecessor's brief two years of life in the Order of Lorelei until one stuck out to him.

_"Anise is very upset and I am worried about her. At first I thought she was just angry, but when I saw her walking in the hall she seemed so deeply troubled. Pamela and Oliver probably fell for a scam again. I know Anise is always talking about expensive things and money, but I don't have much myself. I have an allowance of sorts given to me by the Order yet it isn't enough to buy her smile back. I'm going to ask one of the other guardians to take me out today so I can gather some flowers from the forest. Anise has told me before about the Borialis flowers that bloom there. She says that her father used to take her to a patch of flowers back when she was young and carefree. The memories seem to make her feel better so I'm hoping I can find them. The library says they are bell shaped, yellow and pink flowers. Somehow that suits her, I think."_

Florian pulled out the entry and carefully folded it into his pocket, dog earring one of the pages so he could put it back into place later. He gave Anise one last long look before slipping out the door and carefully clicking it shut behind him.

Anise groaned softly as she tried to turn over and found her legs stuck. With a grunt and a soft curse she kicked off the offending sheet so she could readjust herself. Snuggling down, she couldn't help noting something like soft confetti was on the bed with her. Odd. Anise didn't remember celebrating anything recently. Her next realization was something extraordinarily floral was filling her senses. Did she fall asleep outside? How did she get there? With a start, the girl snapped her eyes open. The ceiling was there and that much was normal. Slowly Anise rose, eyes widening as they tried to take in the pile of flowers she was laying in. Pink and yellow petals were everywhere. Most of the flowers were still intact and some still had stems attached. She and the bed had apparently become a dumping ground for the uprooted plants.

"Wh… What?" Anise stammered unsteadily as she tried to wrap her mind around the phenomena. She delicately picked one up and held it to her face. "A Borialis? How?"

A soft clicking alerted her to someone shutting the door and looked up just in time to see Florian enter the room with a fresh new bouquet folded into his arms. The replica froze in mid step when he realized she was awake and his face went blank at being caught. Filthy didn't begin to describe him. His clothes were all out of place, wrinkled and torn. His once white pants were nearly brown from the mud that had been stubbornly imbedded in the fabric. Florian's hair stuck out at odder angles than normal and he was missing his ceremonial hat. For a long time they waited for the other to make the first move.

"Florian…" Anise finally breathed out, "What are you doing?" Assured she wasn't going to yell at him, Florian relaxed just enough so he could fidget shyly.

"I wanted… to make you smile," he finally said, "I want to try my best so you'll be happy. This is the only thing I can do right now." Anise's face went blank, remembering words so similar and spoken in an identical voice being said to her once long ago.

_"I saw that you were upset and I thought these might help. I like the smiling Anise best, but this is the only thing I can do for you. I'm sorry."_ He had smiled with that barrier breaking smile as he held out the flowers to her. He was obviously exhausted from his adventure in that fragile body, but he had done it for her. He was the only one that had ever gone out of his way for her sake.

Then there was Florian. Sweet, innocent Florian. He had that concerned wide eyed look again while he waited for her to speak. Every inch of his body language was so honest and blatantly worried about her that it broke the girl's heart.

"Why…" She whispered out thickly, looking down so her bangs cascaded over her eyes. Florian's anxiety rose while he tried to develop x-ray vision through the wavy dark curtains. He cringed as he waited for her to glare at him and scold him. "Why are you…? How did you…" She clenched her teeth as her body shuddered. Without warning, she abandoned the bed, sending petals flying from where they had clung to her hair and clothes. Florian dropped the flowers in his hands as her arms wrapped securely around his upper body. "Idiot!" she sobbed against him, "Y-You idiot! Look at how dirty and banged up you are! Why would you do something so risky? Don't you know the forest is dangerous?"

Florian fumbled for an answer, unsure what he should do with his hands while she clung to him and made such loud, distraught noises.

"Please, don't be angry, Anise," he begged, "I know I did a bad thing, but you were so sad and… I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you angry." Anise tightened her grip around him, not caring for the moment if she was squeezing too tight.

"You're lucky no monsters got you," Anise scolded, doing her best to be furious at him, but all she could feel was a heart wrenching happiness which only served to remind her how lonely she had been. Florian looked down at her helplessly as her tears soaked through his robes. "Ugh, you're as stupid as he was. Just too stupid… What will I do if something takes you away, too?"

Florian still had no answers for Anise. Slowly, he felt his arms wrap around the smaller girl and tried to stand still for her. He was silent as he watched her body shudder against his and waited for her to calm down again. When she pulled back with that puffy, tear stained face he looked down in shame. Anise chuckled weakly despite herself, rubbing a sleeve across her face.

"Don't be sorry, Florian," she managed to say, voice thick and choked. She took a moment to swallow a few more tears. "I shouldn't have yelled at you… I'm sorry." Her smile was soggy and painful but genuine enough to make Florian flush. "We're both real messes now!" she said with a short laugh, "And who is going to clean up all these flowers?"

"Um… I didn't think about that," Florian admitted as he looked at the flowers and dirt he had hauled in the room that night. Anise chuckled at the pitiful look he gave her and she reached up to ruffle his messy hair.

"Don't worry. I already have an idea of what we can do…" Anise said.

Tear solemnly climbed the stairs to the altar, eyes distant as she tried to restrain her own mourning and sorrow. She could feel the stares of her comrades and clergymen on her back. Now was the time to honor Ion, not lament over her own pain. She clenched a hand over her chest as she remembered the sacrifice he made for all of them. For the sake of Auldarant, the world he loved, and the friends he cherished. Herself included, as he had removed the miasma from her polluted body. Without him surely she would have been dead long before now.

"Oh, Fon Master…" she breathed out softly to herself. She looked down at the altar erected in his honor and hesitated at the strange display. Upon it was a massive, but crudely arranged bouquet of yellow and pink bell shaped flowers. She had assumed the church would spare no expense but this looked nothing short of amateur. Tear caught herself from reaching out to touch the flowers and pulled her hand back to her side. Somehow, even if the flowers weren't perfect, they were sweet and obviously someone had worked very hard to collect all of them by hand. Ion would definitely be moved by the care and love that had gone into it.

Tear's eyes closed as her chest swelled with the love and respect she felt for the dearly departed Fon Master. Her voice was strong and pure, more elegant than ever as she poured her heart into every syllable, hoping her song would reach him wherever he was.

Florian was in awe of Tear's song, staring at the radiant figure in front of the altar. Breath taking didn't accurately describe her voice or beauty. He only managed to look away when he felt a soft squeeze on his hand. His eyes traveled down to Anise at his side and smiled faintly at the tranquil look on her face. Briefly his gaze ventured over the assembled crowd, amazed by the love and devotion that filled every corner of the great cathedral.

No one would cry or be moved like this by something that was expendable. Somehow, Ion had surpassed his role as a replacement Fon Master. He had risen above being a mere replica by his own resolve and beliefs. Florian felt a new respect for the deceased Fon Master and hoped one day he could be like that, too. He wanted to become a real person like his predecessor. He gripped Anise's hand back gently, his eyes focusing on the altar again.

"Predecessor is wrong…" he whispered softly to himself, squirming for an adequate term for the new warmth in his heart towards Ion, "My... big brother."

_"… Thank you."_

Florian gasped sharply, feeling something warm flow through his entire body as a breeze rustled his hair softly against his cheeks. The replica's heart fluttered excitedly in his chest and he barely noticed a small cry of surprise from Luke. Tear was glowing now from some unidentified power, but Florian knew it and he understood what it was.

"Big brother…" he said again, this time with affection. Florian smiled faintly as he listened to Tear's song, knowing that this would be the first and only time he would listen to it with his sibling.

* * *

This isn't intended to be an Anise x Florian fic. Remember that he's just a kid and all kids need someone to cling to. Since Anise was the first one to be truly kind to him he's latched onto her.

Please feel free to give suggestions or let me know if you like what you see/think I could do something better. Believe it or not, I do tend to take reviews into serious consideration and altar things accordingly if I feel they are valid points. Your voice matters. :P


	4. Number Five

Well, it's been a long time since I uploaded anything. And it's another really long chapter. Sorry about that. I kind of cut a few scenes a bit shorter than I wanted to keep from over kill. There is a small warning with this chapter. There's some slightly graphic death scenes involved so this chapter. Hopefully nothing worthy of changing the story's rating... Anyway, I finally got to upload this! Yay.

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**_*~Number Five~*_**

"Florian, please hold still," Pamela said, trying to keep the frustration out of her voice. The replica wrinkled his nose, but it was the only protest he made while restraining himself from squirming away. This was the third time this week Pamela had to stitch a seam back together on his clothes. Silk and delicate robes were not designed to keep up with Florian's ever growing sense of adventure. His restlessness had already cost them a few pairs of pants and shoes. The woman was starting to think they should find something more productive for the boy to do with his energy, but no one had the time to assign him with a task aside from basic studies. She sorely wished that they had the luxury of her staying at home and taking care of him full time so she could keep him busy. However, the chaotic movements of the Order wouldn't allow her with all the reorganizing of staff that had to be done. It was clear by now the Commandant and the Six-God-Generals would not step down or be dissuaded from their destructive course. Maestro Tritheim had all but assumed the role of Grand Maestro himself while he attempted to fill empty positions of Oracle Knights and other staff members that had left in support of Mohs' New Order of Lorelei. Soothing the fears of the public was also a high priority while debates raged over recent developments surrounding the Score and new course Aldrant had taken. Honestly, all of it was a little too much for Pamela to take in and tried her best to remain focused only on her duties and left the philosophical debate to those better studied in scripture.

"Ow!" Florian squeaked when her needle pricked his skin and nearly jerked away, but the matronly woman gently held him in place.

"I told you not to move so much," Pamela said with a tiny chuckle at the sulky look on his face. She sighed and decided the best course of action was to simply remove the over vest from Florian's robes and repair it later. Carefully she folded up his collar so she could unbutton and lift the fragile, green material from his shoulders then smoothed it back in to place. Lighter and better able to move, Florian flapped his arms to test his new freedom. He smiled happily up at Pamela and approved of her alterations. "Goodness, you've lost your hat again, too, haven't you?"

"No," Florian said, "I took it off because it kept falling. It's on the bed." Pamela nodded, pleased he hadn't lost or destroyed more clothing. She fondly tidied his hair and adjusted the ornaments his longer strands of green were strung through.

"You should take better care of your clothes," the woman said.

"They aren't my clothes," Florian said, avoiding shaking his head for fear of his hair being pulled while she tended to it, "They are Ion's. I don't have any clothes." Pamela paused a beat at the reminder.

"That's true, isn't it…" she mused distractedly, wondering if they should petition for some clothes better suited for the replica's increasingly rowdy games. Once satisfied with his appearance, she stepped back to inspect her repairs. It was strange to see the white and green embroidered robes without the ceremonial mantel over his chest, but somehow it better suited Florian. "Still, try hard not to rip them again, ok?"

"I'll be careful," Florian promised impatiently, "Can I go now?"

"Have you finished Maestro Tritheim's assignment?" Pamela asked, not fazed at all by the frustration in his eyes. She knew he had been well behaved all day and she had kept him at home helping her so it was understandable he was getting antsy, but she also knew once he scampered off to play on his own she wouldn't be able to get him back to the books.

"Yes," Florian said with an affirming nod, "I did it just like he said to." Pamela smiled. She didn't need to worry about him lying to her or checking his work like she used to with Anise. Florian had only tried to lie to her once in order to get out of taking a bath and he had been so instantly guilty afterwards it only took a second questioning before he broke down with the truth.

"Go on then," Pamela said, "And, remember not to leave the church grounds." Florian agreed again and waited for her to step out of the way before making it to the door and running off to find something fun he could do. Pamela sighed softly, knowing sooner or later they would need to teach him not to run. Since the boy had discovered his ability to cover large distances so quickly, he practically ran everywhere he went.

The blur of white and green was common place now in the Order. No one batted an eye and merely stepped out of his way while Florian breezed past. Not all approved, but most knew the child meant no harm and it was strangely refreshing to see someone feeling enthusiastic about anything. Once the Order members had gotten past the initial shock of Florian's presence in their lives and the loss of Ion, they had come to recognize him as the child he was rather than some abomination of fomicry. He had quickly grown to be a lovable enough charge after the Tatlins taught him how to be friendly and not fear everything that moved. And, as long as Florian was in his comfort zone, he was fairly bold and outgoing but normally kept to himself. Among the clergy it was well known anything too foreign or sudden would send him scrambling for safety until it had been properly explained to him.

Of all the Oracle Knight units, the Fon Master Guardians had been the most distressed about his appearance in the Order and the quickest to warm up to the child. Many, Florian had noticed, were girls for some reason and fairly young. None were quite as young as he or Anise, but not adults. He had found them to be terrifying in the beginning with the way they would swoon over his strange, childish way of talking and shyness. Now he found most of them to be very likable since they always said kind things to him and were known to periodically bring him treats from the town. Florian had been happily introduced to different snacks and candies as well as small puzzle games they let him borrow. Puzzle games were especially enjoyable and he was always well rewarded by praise when he finished them and returned the solved toy to its owner. Thus, the Fon Master Guardians' wing was normally the first place the replica went when he earned free time to himself.

The wing was more a series of connected rooms that all emptied into a common area were announcements were made and sessions called into order by the higher ranking members. Pamela had explained to Florian that there were different types of Fon Master Guardians. Those that worked as a unit under the Fon Master's orders and those that served as personal body guards, like Anise. The unit was a fairly small, elite group in the Oracle Knights that, without a Fon Master, served little purpose. It was only natural the masterless guardians had grown restless and contests among their ranks or mindless wandering was very frequent these days. This meant they had plenty of free time to fawn over their little Florian.

"Florian," many of the girls chorused happily when they spotted the dark green eyes peeking into the common room's doorway. He suppressed the urge to flinch back at all the sudden attention, and smiled at the guardians.

"Hello," he said politely as he entered the room, standing near the door and knowing from experience they would flock to him so further entry was not necessary. Soon enough he was surrounded by several girls all bearing similar over vests to what Anise wore. While they had no distinct uniform aside from mantel design, there were some requirements to their attire so they could be recognized as an official branch of the Order. Florian tried to return the individual greetings to the girls, but it was hard to make sure all of them got equal amounts of attention.

"Ah, your clothes are different today," a tall brunette in lavender commented before chuckling, "Did you tear them again?" A stouter blonde girl didn't give Florian the time to respond; they all knew the answer.

"I bet Pamela scolded you," she said, voice thick with a Sheridan accent, "You're always doing that lately. What do you keep getting yourself into?"

"There are birds in the trees outside," Florian said as if it wasn't obvious, but wasn't foolish enough to assume they didn't know. He was acutely aware of the fact things that were new to him were actually considered common sense by most. "I read that they lay eggs this time of year. I want to see the eggs… But I'm not very good at climbing."

"That's dangerous," one of the older girls pointed out. She didn't out right scold him and seemed more amused than concerned. "What if you fall out of the tree or cut yourself? We don't want you to get hurt and make yourself cry again." Florian ducked his head shyly and blushed, having recently been told outright crying was frowned upon for a boy his size even if his age didn't match his body.

"I… I won't cry," he said with no confidence at all. The boy wasn't quite used to physical pain. Even though he had become more rowdy and ran about it was rare he actually fell or hit anything so bruises and minor cuts were still unfamiliar to him. With little to no tolerance for pain built up, the slightest of injuries would cause his eyes to sting with tears. The girls only chuckled at him, knowing better, and Florian tried to ignore their amused swoons about him being embarrassed.

"How about if we get a bird egg for you?" the tall brunette asked. Florian's eyes widened with concern and alarm at the notion and shook his head so fast it made his long strands of hair whip about his shoulders.

"The book said mother birds will run away if you touch the egg," Florian said urgently, "Then the egg can't hatch without its mother and it will die." The tall girl was a bit surprised by the degree of his concern before chuckling at him and ruffling his hair.

"You're such a good boy," she said warmly, "You're right. We shouldn't do anything that might hurt the birds, but you also shouldn't do anything that might hurt yourself." Florian blinked at the hypocrisy he saw in her words.

"But all of you have a dangerous job and do things that might hurt you," he pointed out, "Things that would hurt more than cuts and bruises… Don't you?"

"W-Well, that's different," the stout blonde said in her comrade's place, "We only do that because it's for the greater good."

"Is it… ok for people to be hurt if it's for the greater good?" Florian asked with another concerned frown. The girls winced collectively at the philosophical question the boy raised. Sometimes it alarmed them how he could pull such deep thoughts out of thin air and voice them with that baby tone.

"Oh, Florian, that's hard to answer…" the blonde admitted, looking to the others helplessly. No one seemed to know how to describe such a complicated idea to the boy that even they barely had a grasp of.

"Why?" Florian asked innocently, surprised by their reactions.

"It has to do with a lot of adult concepts and moral implications," the older girl finally said cautiously, knowing that the wrong wording could send the boy into a flurry of questions none wanted to answer. Sometimes talking to Florian was like walking on egg shells. There was only one phrase she knew would stop him in his tracks. "You'll understand when you're older."

"But…" Florian started to whine, his argument dying even as his brows furrowed with dissatisfaction. For some reason that seemed to be all most people could tell him and he couldn't ever summon the courage to push the matter hard enough to get a straight answer. His only further protest was his cheeks puffing out in a pout.

"Florian, would you like to play?" a soft spoken, pink haired girl offered to distract the boy, "I have something you might like." Florian internally wrestled with himself, wanting to sulk out his frustrations, but he knew it wouldn't do any good and he was curious now. He relented with a small nod as his expression softened while he focused on her. Smiling, the girl retreated to her room so she could fetch a toy, the turquoise tail of her uniform flapping behind her. The other Fon Master Guardians had to suppress a sigh of relief now that Florian's attention was diverted to something better suited for a child.

"Here," the pink haired girl said happily as she returned, holding a small box in her hands. Now that the object of question was in sight, Florian moved forward a few steps to meet the girl. Once at his side, she removed the lid and showed him the oddly shaped blocks of wood inside. "It's a puzzle. But not just any puzzle," she paused for dramatic effect, "You have to put it together so it makes a statue of a star."

"So, it isn't flat?" Florian asked, his eyes fixed on the puzzle pieces as if already trying to decipher its configuration. The guardian chuckled and shook her head.

"No," she said, "It's pretty hard so don't worry if you can't get it. I hope you'll try it though." The replica bobbed his head up and down excitedly. If he was able to solve a hard puzzle then maybe they would give him extra praise and even the Tatlins would be proud of him for it.

"I want to try," he said enthusiastically, "I'll be careful not to break it."

"Ok," the girl said, "I'll let you borrow my puzzle. Bring it back when you're done." She replaced the lid on the box before handing it off to the green haired boy who clutched it close to his chest. He grinned happily at her.

"Thank you," he said with a slight bow.

"Maybe that will keep you from climbing trees for a little while, hm?" a girl in brown and olive clothes said more than asked.

"Just until I finish it," Florian said honestly as he smiled at the girl, not realizing she was teasing him. The others giggled at his naiveté. "I'm going to go now. Good bye." He was rewarded with a high pitched chorus of farewells from the Fon Master Guardians. Waving, he retreated from the room to find a nice, quiet place he could get to work on his new project. It was no great mystery to anyone where he would end up. Originally the room had bothered him deeply, but the Fon Master's vacant bedroom had become a bit of a hangout for him when he didn't want to be disturbed by others. No one would question what he was doing there and it was extremely rare anyone had any need for entry into the room.

Florian hummed softly to himself as he shut the door behind him with one of his feet, not wanting to take his hands off of the puzzle any longer than necessary until he had it safely placed on the desk. He walked around to sit in the chair, scooting it forward so his chest was against the corner of the wooden construction. He gripped the box almost affectionately as he removed the lid and tilted it so the contents spilled across the table without losing any pieces off the edge. He kicked his legs contentedly in time with his humming as he began to assemble his puzzle. Time lost all meaning as he worked and would only stop if his body had some sort of natural need to take care of then promptly returned. The puzzle was more difficult than what he had become used to. The lack of pictures also removed key clues to where each piece should go but he wasn't deterred in the least by a challenge. Florian actually found that the harder something was, the more accomplished he felt when he was finished.

Eventually the boy pushed himself back from the puzzle, admiring his progress and happy to see he was half way finished. Proud of himself, he decided he could take a little break before continuing. Florian rose from the desk and stretched hard until he felt his spine pop into place. His legs were a bit stiff and he was mildly amused by himself for not noticing the time that had passed while he worked. Surely it was dark by now but he wasn't willing to head back home just yet. The boy decided to stretch his legs by walking around the room since venturing outside might lead to someone taking him back to the Tatlins before he was ready.

He paused by one of the paintings on the wall and tried to place what it might be depicting. Obviously the woman floating in the picture was Yulia Yue and the massive object behind her had to be the original Score before it had been split into the fonbelt and the seven fonstones. Florian shivered at the thought of the Score being so massive and wondered what the fonstones orbiting the planet said on them. It was a bit unnerving to think that there was still so much they didn't know about Yulia Jue and whatever bits of the Score lingered above the atmosphere. Aside from a few myths and legends in scriptures, she was a mystery despite her fame.

Florian's thoughts were shattered when a loud crash interrupted him. His body instinctively dove for the bed and he scrambled beneath the frame. His heart beat wildly in his ears. Every muscle tensed when he saw broken glass on the floor. He hadn't touched anything. He hadn't broken anything. How could such a thing happen? A soft thump caused Florian's body to go cold when he saw two feet firmly plant themselves on the floor near where a window had been. He had to cover his mouth to keep himself from whimpering outright while his body trembled. The shoes lightly tread across the floor and Florian could hear a soft snort of contempt as they neared some books that were arranged on a shelf.

"Not in an obvious place, hm? I guess if Van is interested in this book it wouldn't be something they would just leave out anywhere…" He could practically hear a sneer forming while the stranger spoke. The voice was very young and male, but, most importantly, Florian knew that voice. Somehow he knew it was lower and a bit louder, yet identical to one he heard very often. His fear subsiding to curiosity, Florian slowly edged himself out from under his hiding spot to the opposite side of the bed where the intruder was standing. He very carefully lifted his head so he could peek over the mattress. Before him was another young boy in long, dark clothes with green trim. They were tightly fitted to his slender, lithe body yet still seemed like they would provide optimum mobility. Orange and yellow bands around his upper arms trailed off into two long ribbons with circular rings at the end. His chest had two dangling, orange and yellow seals of some sort held onto his uniform by silver, circular pins. His dark green hair had been swept forward from the back as if the boy had been bent over so long his hair stuck in that position. The most striking feature about the young man was the strange mask on his face that looked like an embroidered bird beak to Florian.

"Ah…" Florian started, working his lips and only managing a soft squeak. He hadn't realized until then how dry his mouth was. The soft sound was all it took for the intruder to spin around, arms raised in a defensive position and his hands clenched into violent fists. His sudden movement caused Florian to duck down behind the bed.

"Who is there?" the other boy demanded, voice filling with irritation at being caught. He didn't expect anyone to be in the Fon Master's room at this hour. When no one answered he narrowed his eyes under the mask and cautiously edged forward to check the scene of the squeak he heard. Whatever he had been expecting, it wasn't the Fon Master himself pressing his back against the side of the bed and hands clasped tightly over his head for safety. The intruder stumbled back yet remained in a defensive position.

"You're dead!" he cried out in anger and alarm, "How are you…?" His question died on his lips as he finally was able to get his mind to catch up with himself. He chuckled, but the sound was cruel and mocking. "Oh, I see… another replica. So, they're going to replace him with you. Figures."

Florian meekly glanced up at the boy, frightened but something about this person still drew him closer. He tried to speak again but his throat refused to make any actual sounds. He pressed himself hard against the bed when the dark cloaked boy moved closer to him, practically towering over Florian.

"I bet you're actually just trash, too, thrown together at the last minute by Mohs," he sneered, "Well, maybe I should put you out of your misery before you can get attached to this disgusting world." He reached down and roughly grabbed Florian's collar, yanking him up into a standing position and ignoring the soft cry of protest. "Consider this my mercy to you…" Florian could only stare at him with wide eyed confusion and horror as the intruder pulled back his fist then buried it in his stomach.

Florian gagged as air was forcefully thrust from his lungs and he doubled over. His legs gave out and the other allowed him to crumple to the floor on his hands and knees. His face was to the floor as he tried to regain the ability to breath. Tears filled his eyes but he didn't sob as he sat there, stunned and hurting. "Wh… Why?" he managed to wheeze out.

"I told you," the boy said coldly, "This is my mercy to you. This time I'll do it in one hit so it won't hurt." He waited for a reply, but all Florian did was tense up and began muttering something incoherent under his breath. The attacker snorted and decided that the child was too scared now to do anything as he moved forward and grabbed a fist full of soft green hair, pulling the child's head back so he would be able to have one, clean shot at the fragile throat. He ignored the strange, distant look in the replica's eyes, assuming the fear had caused him to lock up. The fist pulled back again, this time twisting over on its back and straightening into a fleshy dagger. A bright light under him was the only warning he had before white hot pain raced through his body and he felt himself flying into the far wall on the other side of the room. The would-be murderer instinctively tried to roll to his feet, but he collapsed to a kneeling position as his whole body burned. "No way… a Daathic Arte?" he hissed out.

Florian was just as surprised as the other boy was, staring at him as if it was he who had up and decided to fling himself into the wall. The attacker growled at his own stupidity for not thinking the other replica could use such artes even if he was a newborn. It wasn't as if he hadn't seen other Fon Master replicas use Daathic artes, but he didn't recognize the power Florian had used. He narrowed his eyes, knowing now it would take a little more effort than planned to kill this child. He rushed in to attack, launching himself into a combo of punches and kicks that were distinctly lacking in Third Fonons. With a squeal of alarm, Florian ran from the attack, scrambling away as fast as he could. He wasn't followed instantly as the other remained still just long enough to reach a conclusion how his power could be so diminished that the younger replica had escaped him at all.

"You…" he started slowly, voice rising with anger, "You cursed me with a fon slot seal!" He snarled and launched himself at the boy again, hands raised to capture the younger boy's thin neck and squeeze. Florian gasped in horror and raised his hand instinctively, light flashing around him again as a glyph filled the entire floor of the bedroom. The older boy skidded to a stop in horror before trying to run from the room, recognizing the size and style of the glyph this time. Everything went white.

Florian slowly opened his eyes and was stunned to see the other boy lying on the ground face first and motionless. He stared at the child in shock before looking down at his own hands as if they had acted on their own and were the real culprits. He hiccupped softly, remembering the throbbing in his stomach and the fear that had gripped him moments before now that the adrenaline was wearing off. Sinking to the ground again he began to sob. He refused to budge while he cried, wondering why no one heard the noise and came to find out what was going on. Surely there had been some kind of sound or light given off to alert one of the knights, but nothing happened. When he had run out of tears and it didn't look like anyone was coming to rescue him from this situation, he turned his watery eyes to the prone figure on the floor.

Slowly and cautiously he scooted over to his attacker. When he was confident the other boy wouldn't be moving anytime soon and was still very much alive, he carefully knelt and turned the boy over. Frowning at the mask, he removed it; his eyes widened to take the face in but he was strangely unsurprised to look at his mirror image. Somewhere deep inside of him he had recognized this boy the moment he heard that voice.

"Another Fon Master replica…" he breathed out in awe. Florian's fear was instantly gone as he focused on what such a discovery meant for him. Pamela had once mentioned that because he and Ion's birth had been similar that probably made them like brothers. So, if the same was true here, that would make him a brother, too, by definition. It was a strange idea, Florian thought, of having a brother when neither had biological parents. However, Pamela seemed very insistent on the idea, so he eventually accepted it as true. From his understanding brothers were supposed to take care of each other and he wondered why his sibling had been so set on hurting him.

He mulled over his options for a long time until he noticed a strange, red substance leaking from the hairline of the older replica. Florian gasped in horror at the sight of blood, scrambling back as he fidgeted for some sort of solution. He knew nothing about treating others, but he at least had the sense to know he needed to stop the bleeding. Without thinking much beyond that he rushed out of the room to collect what he assumed were necessary healing supplies.

Everything ached was the first thought he had. Wounds were not uncommon for him and he was fairly certain he would have no trouble shaking them off if not for the splitting headache. For now he remained still and tried to show no signs of being aware of his surroundings. He determined he was on a bed. From the softness and lack of drafts or dampness he doubted it was a prison bed but surely he had been captured. His body was sore but he could already tell it was nothing he couldn't fight with once his headache subsided. Escape would be easy enough no matter where they placed him, but it was humiliating to have been captured at all. It took all his will power not to clench his fists at the thought of that stupid looking Fon Master replica. If he hadn't lowered his guard this wouldn't have happened. He should have assumed any replica that Mohs would decide was worthy to serve him would be capable of using high level artes. What bothered him most was that this replica had used two powerful Daathic Artes without showing any signs of fatigue. There was a strong chance that Dist had perfected his replica technology and created a stronger version after the seventh one.

Soft padding of feet near him caused the boy to refocus his attention on the room. The footsteps were accompanied by a strange sloshing noise and stopped next to the bed. The halt was followed by a tiny thud of something heavy being put on the floor. He could feel eyes on him, but refused to move unless he sensed danger until he could figure out some more answers or knew he would have the advantage to attack. Just because he hadn't heard guards didn't mean there weren't any. More sloshing and dripping noises followed and he wondered what his captor was planning. Something wet and warm was slopped across his face. With a cough and yelp of alarm he sat up despite his efforts not to react.

"What are you doing!" he raged as he ripped the drenched rag from his face, glaring at the other green haired child. Florian gave a start and his mouth dropped open in a little 'o' of surprise as he took a step back. "Idiot! You should at least wring it out first unless you're trying to drown me! I should… ugh." He slumped forward as his head spun again. Florian shifted uncomfortably and fiddled with the edge of his robe.

"Your head was bleeding," he reported softly, "There's a bump… I'm sorry. It's my fault…" He allowed his apology to trail off when he noticed the seething glare he was being given between his assailant's fingers.

"You took off my mask."

"It was in the way…"

"You saw my face."

"I've seen it before," Florian reported bluntly, "It's mine, too." He took notice of the other boy clenching his fist around the wet cloth so tight that water drained from it onto the bed. A silence fell between them as they reached a stalemate.

"M… My name is Florian," the younger replica said, forcing his friendliest smile that usually resulted in a kind greeting from others. He wasn't used to the kind of hostility he could sense from the other boy and wasn't sure what to do other than be friendly.

"What number are you?" the other asked shortly.

"N-Number? I don't remember…" Florian admitted. It had been a long time since he was referred to by a number even by Mohs. Generally he had defaulted to some sort of insult or simply called the child replica. "But, um, what's your name?"

"You don't want to know my number?" the other asked with a wry chuckle as if being asked his name was something funny to hear from another replica like him.

"It doesn't matter," Florian said, voice soft but honest and blunt as usual, "We're the only two left now, right?" The older boy let out a short, amused snort at the child's logic.

"I'm called Sync the Tempest," he said, "One of the Six-God-Generals." He watched for Florian's reaction, assuming the child had at least heard of him and the others. The child blinked and thought over that a moment before nodding in acceptance.

"It's nice to meet you," he said, smiling cheerfully the way he had been taught to greet knew people. Sync narrowed his eyes suspiciously. He had seen the recognition briefly in the other replica's eyes.

"Why aren't you scared? I tried to kill you," Sync said. Florian looked down.

"I am scared," he admitted, "What you did hurt but… what I did hurt you more." The other replica nearly rose to his feet as if insulted, but was too dizzy to do more than sit up straight.

"You only won because I lowered my guard," he snapped before narrowing his eyes and looking down at himself, "Although, it was my own foolishness. I should know better than that. It's disgusting... Pathetic." He almost flinched at the sad, worried gaze the younger boy gave him.

"You were bleeding," Florian said anxiously, "I've… never made someone bleed before."

"In this violent world, that's rare," Sync said with a dark chuckle, grinning with that horrible irony again, "You really are just the Order's little pet now, huh? What a cute life."

"I don't understand what you mean," Florian said, frowning at the oddity of sarcasm, "But if you think I am cute, you must think you are also cute. That's called narcissism, right?"

"You're irritating," Sync said rather than trying to argue or explain his words. He had enough experience with being a new born replica and seeing Dist's experiments to know it was a waste of his time. Florian was startled and sulked at the insult but didn't know how to argue against an opinion. Sync shifted when he noticed the growing dampness against him and looked down at the cloth in his hand. "What were you even trying to accomplish with this?"

"Pamela puts a warm cloth on Oliver's head when it hurts," Florian explained, still sulking unhappily. Sync chuckled again in a way that made Florian uncomfortable.

"So, you were trying to make my head feel better? What a good little boy you are to try and make your enemy comfortable," he said. Florian frowned. He doubted that was a compliment.

"Enemy?" he repeated unsteadily, "An enemy is… Why are we enemies?"

"I tried to kill you, right?" Sync said more than asked, "That doesn't make us friends. Besides, I bet you've taken sides with Anise and her band of idiots."

"You know Anise?" Florian asked, eyes widening. Sync grinned, hoping to spark some anger into that overly sweet, innocent face on the younger replica's face. He leaned closer to the other boy.

"I've tried to kill her a few times," he said smugly, "So, yes, you could say that." Florian reeled back at that statement, eyes going wide in horror and something Sync wasn't expecting at all. The younger replica hesitated a moment before he moved closer in concern.

"They must have beaten you up a lot," Florian said, not seeming to consider Anise and her friends as being killable. Sync quirked a brow as he stared at the other before wondering if he should feel insulted. He sighed and rubbed a hand through his hair, hesitating when he felt an absurd amount of stick on bandages glued to his green spikes.

"Wh-What is this supposed to be?" he gawked, wincing as he ripped one out with a small tuff of his own hair.

"They stop bleeding," Florian explained calmly, flinching at the millionth glare Sync had given him, but was becoming used to it.

"I know what they're for," Sync ground out between mildly clenched teeth, "I mean… Why are they all over my head?"

"I wasn't sure where the cut was… your hair is very thick and it all sticks out funny so it's hard to look through," the naïve boy said, "So, I just put a lot on." This time he was able to avoid the rage on the God General's face by finding the ceiling very interesting at that moment.

"You really are an idiot!" Sync snapped, "There's no way you and I were created from the same source! I refuse to have any relation to someone as stupid as you are." His anger dissipated at the pitiful look he received from the little boy and nearly flinched back himself this time when he saw moisture in Florian's eyes.

"I… I just wanted to help," Florian said unsteadily, voice hinging on tears, his gaze hurt and upset. Sync was mostly just glad the other hadn't started outright crying. How he hadn't been caught yet was a miracle but he was fairly certain if Florian went into a sobbing fit someone would hear and come to check on the child. "Because… you're my brother, aren't you?"

That stopped Sync in his tracks. His expression blanked yet again, floored by the younger replica's rationale. The concept of disposable trash like him having someone call him brother was a ridiculous notion. Florian's blush and discomfort told him that even the other child knew it was silly, but seemed to want to believe it.

"We're replicas," Sync said slowly, "We don't have families. We aren't related or even actually born. We're just things created to be used."

"I know," Florian admitted after a small beat, "I know that, but Pamela said…" He sighed and looked up at Sync, meeting the equally dark jade gaze. "I think having a family sounds nice. Why not?"

"Because," Sync began angrily as if it was obvious but he actually didn't have much to back up his argument. He had simply never thought of having a family. Since Mohs had dubbed him as useless for his purposes and Van took him in, he had only concerned himself with how stupid the world was and how everything was meaningless. His bitterness had never even allowed the concept of family to graze his thoughts. None of the other God Generals even mentioned theirs so it had always seemed pointless. He internally cursed when he saw that Florian was still waiting patiently for his explanation. "Ugh, it doesn't matter," he finally said irritably, "We just aren't brothers."

"Oh…" Florian was disappointed and it showed on his deflated expression. Sync briefly thought about smacking that pitiful look off the child's face, embarrassed one that was identical to his own would have such a stupid expression. However, that would have no doubt resulted in more tears and potentially summon knights that he wasn't quite ready to deal with yet.

"Why didn't Mohs program you like the other recent Replicas?" Sync said more than asked with a grunt of irritation, looking away from the source of his anger even as he addressed Florian, "At least he could have made you less babyish."

"Program?" Florian repeated slowly as if the word was foreign to him. He wasn't terribly well versed in technology since Daath severely lacked in Fon Machines and he had been created to serve as a Fon Master. Scripture was far more important for him to have memorized.

"Yeah, program," Sync said, rolling his eyes, "So that you would know things without needing to be taught." He hesitated, only then noting how remarkably well Florian was speaking and functioning for a freshly made Replica. Most were barely better than infants unless programmed, but Florian lacked the soulless gaze and monotone of a programmed model. Perhaps he was a bit older than Sync first assumed. Mohs could have had him created as a precaution when the seventh replica started acting on his own. It irritated him that Mohs and Van would have kept something like this a secret from him. Not that it was any of his concern. Van had no obligation to tell Sync anything more than what was necessary for him to do his job, after all. Trash had no need for that kind of consideration.

"Are you ok?" Florian's soft voice derailed his train of thought briefly. His gaze slipped back to the replica in question. The more he thought about it, the stranger and stranger Florian seemed. Mohs had been very busy making a menace of himself. When did he have time to create and train a replica Fon Master in the past months? Dist had been too swamped with researching Hod's replication data to have taken the time to carefully construct one as well. Fon Master replicas required quite a bit more effort to successfully give birth due to the fact they were supposed to be capable of using all seven fonons. There was no way Dist was that good at multitasking. Sync had been convinced the idiot had some sort of attention disorder with how spastic he always was.

"How old are you?" the older replica asked instead of acknowledging Florian's concerns. The boy was a bit startled by the question.

"I'm not sure," Florian admitted slowly, "I was in that room a long time… Before that I was…" He frowned softly as his voice trailed off. Synch waited impatiently for him to continue. When it became obvious Florian didn't intend to he allowed a frustrated grunt to escape him.

"What?"

"It's a bad memory," Florian said, avoiding eye contact.

"What would you know about bad memories?" Sync asked venomously, sneering again at Florian, "Like a piece of trash would know anything about—"

"Trash?" Florian suddenly interjected sharply, causing Sync to pause. He wasn't prepared for the soft spoken, timid child to cut him off. His eyes locked with the equally dark jade gaze and felt as though he had been mentally pinned to the wall by the startlingly piercing stare.

"What's with you?" Sync asked, trying not to show his wariness. He couldn't take Florian too lightly. Especially not after how that had ended the first time.

"Trash… Why did you say that?" Florian asked, his intensity fading a bit but his stare was hard on the other replica. Sync hesitated at the question, wondering why that word struck Florian so. Was he sensitive to the fact he was a replica? Earlier in the conversation he had seemed very aware and accepting of what he was. If this was a weakness then the sadistic sodier might be able to have a little fun.

"Does it bother you?" Sync's lips curled into a cruel grin, "Even if Mohs picked you to be his little back up pet, you're still just trash. The seventh was the only one of us that mattered. The rest of us—"

"—are only kept out of pity to be used then thrown away," Florian cut him off again, finishing the sentence. His voice was soft this time but the words had stopped Sync cold. He felt a strange coldness wash over him and his smile faded into shock as he stared at his mirror image. Florian's gaze was no longer hard, but distant and thoughtful. "That's what he said… That's what Master Ion said to us."

Sync's mouth worked soundlessly, but couldn't bring himself to form an intelligent response while his mind spiraled. His mouth went dry when he reached the only possible conclusion but he had to verify it.

"How do you know that?" he asked, voice cold and glare harsh this time as he regarded Florian. The boy met his gaze unflinchingly but he was calm now. Sync was further irritated to recognize Florian had already realized and accepted the situation.

"You were there, too," Florian said slowly, a smile creeping onto his face. He shifted his robe, rolling up the sleeve to reveal a trio of scars on his arm that had to come from some beast. "Remember me? Do you? I remember you now."

"Y-You…" Sync chocked, not recognizing his own voice as it hitched in his throat. He clenched his fists around the blankets he was sitting on. It was entirely impossible _he _was alive. Van told the replica God-General he was the only survivor. He was vaguely aware that Florian was now chatting happily at him but he couldn't get himself to register what the words meant while his head swam with memories.

_Everything was red. His fingers sifted through the red dust thickly coated over the hardened red earth he had landed on. The rocky cliffs he had barely missed in his fall were red. His skin, which had been pale before, was died red by the light sweltering up from below. His hands worked unsteadily through the dirt as if all the answers he needed could be sifted out of the gritty substance. Hesitantly he brought one hand to his face when it brushed against something warm, thick and wet—yes, wet was the word—and it was red, too. His eyes trailed down to where his hand had been on the ground, noticing the growing pool of liquid spreading out from under him. He shuddered, realizing that this was the liquid that had come out of Number One when he was made an example of. He wasn't sure what it meant, but knew that when it had come out of Number One, the other had stopped moving shortly after. Number One never moved again._

_Was he leaking? Afraid of the answer but more afraid of not knowing, he looked down and followed the puddle to its source. A small, frail looking body lay broken beneath him. Its neck was twisted unnaturally and its arms were bent in places they shouldn't be. From torn skin a white shard jutted offensively from the crushed chest that could no longer rise or fall. Eyes were open, vacant, and the liquid seeped from them like soiled tears. The liquid was everywhere. Red was everywhere. He shuddered. Number Three would not move again._

_Frightened that becoming immovable might be contagious, he pulled his frail body away. His skin burned in protest at being dragged against rocks and debris, but he ignored it until he was away from the red liquid. He pulled his knees to his chest, rocking unhappily as he tried to understand his surroundings. Nothing. He understood nothing. So he simply rocked back and forth. Back and forth. The redness was everywhere and all he could do was rock back and forth._

"_Ah!" A squeak. A voice. The first sound he had heard since he had been declared garbage and was thrown into the world of red. He looked over and spotted something green. He craved the greenness. Anything that wasn't red. He reached out for it desperately and saw it move in response. Green eyes bore into him but he welcomed it. The other weakly worked its pale arms to push itself up. Once it had finally managed to remove its chest from the ground, it shuddered with a cough. Red liquid spilled from the mouth and a low moan followed. He recoiled at the red liquid. Number Two was going to stop moving soon, too. With a shudder he pulled himself away, ignoring the pleading stare the other gave him. He shook his head blindly, rejecting the other as he slowly forced himself to his feet for a quicker escape. His muscles protested violently and he buckled, but a nearby rock saved him from falling. Using the rock, he made his escape, barely noting the ragged gasps and whimpers he left behind. He wouldn't let the red liquid get him, too._

_His hands were raw as his soft flesh grinded against the sharp rock walls for support. He ignored the pain, forcing himself away from the liquid. He had to keep moving. If he stopped he might never move again like the others. He only tore his eyes away from the wall when he heard a scream of agony. He turned his head in time to see the miserable heap of green come crashing down from above. With a meaty thud it collided with a cliff that jutted out just too far, but was unfortunate enough to survive the collision and even more unfortunate that its decent didn't stop there. Wailing and moaning it crumpled into rocks below, rolling towards the red light. He almost wanted to go to the edge and see where it landed, but a horrid wail erupted from below and he clung tight to the wall again. The screaming was like a never ending serenade of agony. He wished it would end, but it persisted and a foul smell slowly filtered up to his nostrils. He shuddered at the horrible sounds and knew it had to stop. He had to stop it._

_Slowly, oh, so slowly, he crept along the wall. But there was desperation in his movements now. He had to stop the screams. The screams could not be allowed to continue. Gritting his teeth he worked his way from the wall, teetering on his feet as he stood by his own power. One foot in front of the other, he made his way to the edge and slipped down the rocky slopes. He grunted at the bruises and scrapes he acquired, but he had reached his goal. The smoldering mess of green was in sight. Still screaming despite its already raw voice, it burned. The red light had eaten its legs and had begun to climb the side of the broken body, leaving blackness in place of pale flesh. He started to move closer, but the heat became overpowering when he tried. He wasn't close to it but it still burned his flesh and lungs. Hissing in frustration he grabbed a rock and threw it. The aim was true and hit its target. Another scream accompanied by a sob as red liquid slipped from a gash left by the rock. He shuddered but wouldn't stop. Once Number Four stopped the screaming would stop, too. He wouldn't have bothered to count the number of rocks he threw even if he could. His arms and strength were exhausted, but eventually he made the final blow and all fell into silence again. His chest heaved from the exertion but he was satisfied no matter how much his limbs burned._

_He staggered to the nearest wall and began his slow ascent away from the suffocating heat and red light. The silence was deafening now and a small part of him almost wished for the screams again. No, not the screams; silence was better than screams. He just wished for something else in this world of red. He gasped when his hand slipped against the rock he had been using as support and hissed in pain. A moan escaped his lips and he clutched his hand close. When he looked down he felt his insides knot and twist with horror. Red liquid seeped from his hand, trailing down his arm and collecting on the ground beneath him. With a shudder he collapsed in despair. Now he would stop, too. He clutched his arm close, curling into himself and rocking again. Back and forth. Back and forth. Soon he wouldn't be able to rock back and forth anymore._

"_S-Synchron… rate," a soft voice stammered. He half heartedly glanced up at the shuffling noise he was now fully aware of next to him. Another green thing was there, crawling on all fours and staring at him thoughtlessly. "Synch… ron rate," it mumbled again. He could have screamed in frustration, realizing that this green thing hand no red liquid on him. But it didn't matter anymore. Nothing mattered because soon he would stop mattering. The other didn't seem to realize how dangerous the red liquid was because when it saw the liquid, its eyes glittered and the green thing approached. He hissed in pain when the other's hands were suddenly around his wounded hand, but he didn't pull back or resist._

"_Synchron?" the other mused as it regarded the hand and liquid. It was thoughtful before pulling the hand close to its face and licking the redness. Its nose wrinkled thoughtfully before continuing the action. He thought about pushing the other away because it hurt, but he was also fascinated by its fearlessness. This green thing wasn't wary of the red liquid at all. Slowly he uncurled himself and pushed his back against the rock wall, watching the one who welcomed the redness._

"_Mmm," it eventually mused, seeming to take comfort from making noises like the ones who had spoken to them before. It had shifted up against his side, still holding onto the hand even though he had stopped licking the wound. "Mm, mmm, mmhmm," it continued, trying various pitches. The sound was strangely pleasant and he found himself trying to mimic it._

"_Mmhm, mmm, hmm," he answered and noted the pleased look in the other's eyes. They hummed back and forth to each other, taking a strange pleasure in their obscure duet. He couldn't say he was happy or even content, but he was calm. Things were better now. His eyelids grew heavy and he shivered, trying to fight the growing sluggishness. He was stopping. He didn't want to stop. He didn't want to stop at all. But he couldn't resist it anymore and the red world became black._

_Blackness was nice. It was nothingness. He felt nothing and it was wonderful. Stopping was such a great feeling he vaguely wondered why he ever tried to resist or feared it. He hoped the other would also be able to feel the blackness, too._

_Then it was gone and everything was red again. His eyes snapped open so suddenly his whole body flinched. What happened? What was that peaceful world of blackness? Why hadn't he stopped? He felt a weight on his shoulder and looked down to see the green thing's head against him. It wasn't moving. Fear rushed through his body and he grabbed the other, jerking it harshly. He didn't want it to stop moving even though seconds before he wanted to welcome the other to the blackness. He didn't want to be left behind in the red world alone again._

"_S-Sync…?" the other mumbled thickly as its eyes fluttered open. It groaned softly but moved and he let go of its shoulders, his fears lifted and a strange pleasure filled his chest. Relief? Perhaps that would be a good word for it. His lips did something strange and he felt the corners turn upward. The other blinked at him for a moment before it mimicked the action uncertainly. "Synchron rate," it said in greetings._

_He was pleased by the greeting and 'hmm'd in return. His hand throbbed in reminder that he had been wounded and was surprised to see he wasn't leaking red fluid anymore. An ugly crust of some sort had formed and he thought for a moment to pick it away, but he was frightened it might release more of the dreaded substance. Perhaps this was the other's doing? He immediately felt grateful to the green thing and had to admire its strange ability to stop the red liquid._

_Time had no meaning to either of them as they sat, grunting and humming at each other with a few improperly executed words they had picked up from their creators. The red world didn't seem so bad now even though it still hurt him, but he didn't want to stay there. He wanted to find the world of blackness again and perhaps there were more worlds beyond the redness? Eventually he edged his way back to his feet and reached for the other to follow his example. The other had to hold onto him to stay on its feet. He quickly realized the green thing's mobility was very low, but it was as determined to stay with him as he was to keep it by his side. _

_Their pace was agonizing but they began to climb up the slopes of the rocks. He had to do most of the pushing and pulling to get the other to the next ledge then they would rest. They both noticed each other weakening as time wore on and eventually they would slip into the world of blackness. How he longed to stay there, but for some reason he was always jerked back into the red world he was trying so desperately to escape. As his body began to grow weaker, he found himself resenting the other for slowing him down. He was growing less likely to help but he would always wait for the green thing to stumble to his side when he got too far ahead._

_The other had grown quieter and made wheezing sounds when it breathed, but he ignored it. Eventually it stopped climbing, doubling over to brace itself against its knees while it wheezed. He grunted in annoyance and decided to press ahead. A soft squeak behind him made a low, irritated growl escape his throat. He didn't want to wait anymore. He wanted out of the red world now._

"_N-No!" the green thing suddenly shouted, startling him. He knew that word. It was something their creators had yelled at them frequently when they did wrong. His brows knit in anger as he turned to yell something back at the other. His yell died on his lips as he looked up at a long, scaled creature glaring down at him hungrily. He didn't know what it was, but it terrified him. The beast's forked tongue flickered and two flaps of skin flared out from its long neck, making it seem bigger and more ferocious. It hissed at him before lunging._

_He threw himself to the side on instinct, wincing as his already bruised body landed hard on some of the rocks. A whimper tore its way from his throat as he scrambled weakly from the monster's claws and teeth. He was vaguely aware of the other shouting again, but all he could see was the beast before him. He shuddered when his back pressed hard into a jagged rock and he couldn't recoil any further from the attacker. When he saw the creature raise its claw he shut his eyes tight as if to reject the inevitable._

_A cry of pain rang through the caves, but it wasn't his. He cracked his eyes open to see the other standing in front of him, arm drenched in red liquid. Trembling, his mouth worked soundlessly as he tried to think of something to say to the green thing. A white light carved a pattern beneath the other as the beast approached again. Then he found the world of whiteness._

_The world of whiteness was much briefer than the blackness. It was only fractions of seconds then it was gone and so was the beast. In its place was a smear of red liquid against the ground. The other wobbled unsteadily before slumping to the ground. He found himself grabbing its shoulders, not caring if his hands got covered in red liquid anymore. He prevented the other from slumping all the way to the ground and shook it with a grunt, but only received a whimper for his efforts. He shuddered in horror when he saw the weakening in his other's eyes._

"_N… No," he mumbled out helplessly when he realized the other was stopping. "No. No, no, no!"_

"_Hmm…" the green thing mumbled weakly before smiling up at him. "S-Synchron… rate… Synch. Sync…" Then he was still. The red liquid continued to pool under them as he shouted over and over for the other._

"_S-Sync…" he hoarsely repeated the green thing's last words. He shuddered unhappily as he realized Number Six wouldn't move anymore and he began to climb again, leaving his other behind in the world of red._

"You're… dead," Sync eventually mumbled, his voice barely audible. Florian didn't seem to hear and continued his babbling, unaware of the effect this revelation was having on his senior. "You're _dead_!" His shout resounded through the room, silencing the other replica.

Florian stared, uncertain how exactly he should respond to such a statement. He wasn't entirely sure Sync would care what he had to say, for that matter. The small God-General's shoulders shook from the pressure of his clenched fists and teeth. His eyes were full of rage and denial as his mind tried to understand how such a thing was possible. Number Six was dead. He had died in that Lorelei forsaken volcano. How dare this complete idiot even suggest he was one and the same?

"I waited for you," Florian said softly after a few moments, looking away and shifting anxiously on his feet, "When I woke up you were gone… I waited for a long time. Then Mohs came and… then I was in that room."

"For _two years?_" Sync nearly snarled, taking some satisfaction at seeing Florian flinch back, "That's impossible! _Impossible! _I would have noticed you. I would have found you before then! I'm a God-General and one of Van's closest subordinates. Mohs, that fat idiot, couldn't have kept you hidden from me."

"Two years…?" Florian repeated softly, "Then… the last Ion was the same age as me?"

"_If_ you are Number Six—which you can't be—then you're older than he was," Sync all but spat at Florian, "He was Number Seven." Florian was shocked by this information. From what he had heard, Ion had seemed so much older than he was. Perhaps that was what happened when someone spent their life in the world instead of a room. Would he be able to grow up that quickly? Could he catch up to Ion and Sync now that he wasn't in the room?

"Don't make that face!" Sync objected angrily, "You aren't Number Six. You're just a defect who coincidentally has a scar on his arm. That's all it is!" Florian frowned.

"I remember you," he said, voice soft but determined, reaching out and taking the other boy's hand. Sync protested but was hesitant to lash out physically at the other replica now. He tried to pull back but Florian held on with all his strength as he tore away one of the martial artist's gloves, revealing the faded scar across his palm. "I remember this. This happened when I found you. You cut yourself on a rock."

"No!" Sync shoved Florian away, wincing when he saw the frailer boy collide hard into the wall. The younger replica faltered but was determined to stay on his feet. Silence fell between them. Florian remained against the wall. He wasn't sure why it suddenly mattered so much to him to prove himself to Sync now. Florian wasn't one to compete or accept challenges beyond a puzzle game. Why did he so desperately want to be acknowledged by Sync? Tears gathered in his eyes but he stubbornly refused to cry even if his emotions throbbed painfully in his chest.

"Your synchron rate was low… I remembered them assessing you before me. That's why you were thrown away, too," he said, voice barely above a whisper.

"Shut up!" Sync shouted furiously, trying to cling to his denial.

"My synchron rate was high… but I had slow mobility," Florian said, voice gaining strength, "I couldn't learn to walk as fast or as well as the others. Even now I'm kind of clumsy…" Even he was self aware enough to realize it. "That's why I was thrown away with you." His expression became sheepish. "I'm still not really sure what a synchron rate is… Mohs never explained it."

Sync winced at the truth in Florian's words. There was no other way for Florian to know these things unless he had been there. He shuddered when he felt something sharp and painful in his chest. An emotion? How long had it been since he really felt one? What did this one mean? It was familiar but he couldn't place where he had felt it before.

"I-I'm sorry," Florian said, taking Sync off guard as he looked up at the boy, confused by the worried and anxious expression on the other's face. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to…"

"What are you talking about?" Sync asked, summoning as much venom as he could, but it sounded weak even in his own ears. His voice wavered just enough for him to curse himself for such a weakness.

"You're crying," Florian pointed out guiltily.

"Crying?" Sync was horrified by the thought, but when he reached up to touch his cheek there was dampness. He hissed between his teeth, having always seen tears as weak. How disgusting! How utterly ridiculous! He stared hatefully at the tear stains on his sleeve. So these were tears caused by that strange feeling in his chest? For the briefest moment he was almost in awe of the fact he could cry. There was a strange novelty in crying for the first time and he laughed bitterly at himself. Florian winced at the joyless laughter, not liking the sound of it and uncertain what his mirror image might do now.

"Crying… So even garbage can cry, huh?" Sync laughed again. "Useless refuse shouldn't do something so stupid. It's not like we're real people anyway."

"Crying isn't something boys our age should do," Florian admitted slowly, repeating something one of the Fon Master Guardians had teased him about, "I try not to cry but sometimes it happens. Sometimes it just comes out… so I think it's natural for even replicas to cry."

"It's pointless," Sync said.

"It happens," Florian said, "I think it happens because I'm alive." Sync gave him an odd expression and he knew he wasn't communicating well again. He flushed crimson but continued to try anyway. "I'm alive so… maybe just being alive makes you cry even if you're real. I don't even understand what being real means… all I know is that I'm here and I'm alive. So I cry sometimes."

"So… crying is proof of your existence?" the God-General asked slowly, narrowing his eyes at the absurdity of it all.

"Do I need proof that I exist?" Florian asked, his brows knit in confusion. The innocent question unsettled Sync and he scoffed to cover the small shiver that went up his spine.

"It doesn't matter," he said, "Even if you exist, you're still just garbage. We're all garbage and so is this whole world. I hate the world and everything in it. I hate being a part of this world. I hope it's all destroyed."

"I don't really understand the world," Florian admitted slowly, "But there are things I like in this world… I like Anise, Pamela, Oliver, Tear, Luke, Natalia, Guy and even Mr. Jade. I like Maestro Tritheim and the Fon Master Guardians. I like the orphans who visit sometimes and being outside… If they were destroyed I would be sad."

"You're just naïve," Sync said, narrowing his eyes at the childish rambling.

"I'm… glad you're part of the world, too," Florian said as if not hearing. He smiled at Sync. "I'm glad we were friends even if you're a little scary now. I'm happy that I was able to protect you. Even if we're garbage I'm glad we were able to meet in this world. I've always wanted to meet you again."

Sync felt that horrible emotion swell in his chest again and winced, suppressing a small shiver as he stared unwillingly into those mercilessly honest eyes. His vision blurred and he cursed at what he now recognized as tears.

"Dammit, why does this keep happening?" he growled, "Stop that!"

"I'm sorry," Florian said fearfully as if he was the culprit of a horrible crime. He watched Sync scrub angrily at his face for a few moments, allowing him time to collect himself. The child began to shift nervously, his cheeks flushing as he fiddled with his robe, looking this way and that for some sort of answer or advice on what to do next.

"What now?" Sync growled as he eyed Florian's obscure body language. The younger replica looked down as if he'd been caught red handed and was ashamed.

"I… was wondering if I could sit with you," Florian admitted unhappily, "I missed you."

"Ugh! Do you have to say those embarrassing things?" Sync snapped, angry that Florian's honesty was making it so hard to have composure. He wasn't used to someone talking so affectionately to him. It made his stomach turn and his heart throb. The worst part was he could tell the younger boy meant each word he said. The pitiful look Florian gave him didn't help one bit. "Fine, as long as you promise not to talk anymore."

Florian bobbed his head up and down in agreement. Content that the child understood the deal and would commit to it, Sync shifted to the side to grant entry onto the bed. He grunted at the faint traces of pain he still felt in his head and body when he moved, but ignored it for now. Florian carefully maneuvered himself onto the bed and settled down next to Sync.

They didn't touch. They didn't speak. They just sat next to each other. Florian tried hard not to smile, but he was happy, strangely enough. He wasn't sure if he could say Sync was his friend or someone he cared about on the same level as Anise or the Tatlin's. But he was important. The young God-General was the first person he ever had any sort of connection to. Sync had been there when he was born. He was the one who had faced the hell of the volcano with him. He was the first person to care about whether Florian lived or died. He was _important._

Even if things had changed and would continue to change.

Sync wasn't sure why he was pandering to Florian's strange whim, but he couldn't help feeling himself relax ever so slightly. There was a sort of nostalgia to it all even if it centered on the most horrific moments of his short life. When Florian wasn't paying attention he would glance over at the younger Replica. To believe Number Six was right there and had been locked away under his very nose all this time was mind boggling. It made him sick to his stomach but he couldn't identify the specific feeling that caused him such discomfort. The other replica caused him to have these strange, unpleasant feelings. He should just leave. By now the pain had subsided and he could easily grab Van's book and leave without looking back.

He didn't move.

Why? He chewed his lip, wondering what rooted him to the bed. He certainly doubted Florian had any intention of holding him prisoner or stopping him in any way. Not that the younger boy could even if he was technically the more proficient in fonon manipulation. Perhaps he had casted more than one curse slot during their scuffle? Sync had a feeling he would be able to easily work off the curse Florian had instinctively put on him. It wasn't very well constructed since Florian lacked both actual experience and the desire to do more than defend his own life when he performed the arte. Sync was far savvier with using curses and knew he would have noticed by now if another one was on him. So, why stay?

He still didn't move other than to shift his weight as if thinking about rising then choosing not to yet again. The God-General could feel Florian's eyes on him but refused to meet the other green haired boy's gaze. He could perfectly imagine that wide eyed, curious look on the other's face as he waited to see if his company was staying or going. Once satisfied that Sync wasn't leaving, he turned his face away as well but there was no doubt his full attention was still on the older replica. The thought of someone actually wanting his company that badly made Sync's heart wrench uncomfortably again; he had to resist putting a hand over it.

Maybe that was why he was staying, as pathetic as it was to admit. He rarely felt anything other than irritation, bitterness and, over all, emptiness. Sync almost clung to that empty feeling as if the lack of anything was all he had. He had never honestly felt much else but never thought anything of it. As sweet and gentle as Number Seven acted, he hadn't been all that different. Even the benevolent Fon Master Ion was a stranger to most emotions. People mistook him for being patient and serene, but the truth was that their precious Ion simply didn't know most emotions or even how to show them if he could feel such things. He almost sneered at the irony of it all and how stupid everyone was to be so easily fooled.

Then there was Florian. Even though he was obviously naïve and under developed, his ranges of emotions startled Sync. He couldn't understand the boy's babbling and passed it off as idiocy, but something about it unsettled him. The way Florian's eyes caught every single emotion and portrayed it openly for all to see. In the short time they had spent together Florian had been happy, sad, confused, hurt, suspicious, irritated, content and even embarrassed. Perhaps on some level Sync was a bit jealous.

A soft pressure on the bed next to his arm caused Sync to glare hard at the sleepy mop of green hair. Florian had curled up on his side next to Sync, eyes closed so he missed the warning snarl. The child soldier gave up glaring at someone who was virtually ignoring him and slowly realized Florian probably hadn't been to sleep at all that night and it was nearly sunrise. He almost chuckled wryly. How cute. Someone staying up to keep him company while he was unconscious?

There was that uncomfortable feeling in his chest again. This time he did put a hand over it and sighed. Perhaps, just for a moment, he could indulge Florian and his 'childhood memories.'

"Mmm," he suddenly hummed, not picking any particular tune. He felt Flroian shift next to him before a softer hum answered him. Both hummed back and forth even though they knew how to talk. At this point, for this moment, both were tired of words and didn't feel they were necessary.

Sync wasn't sure when exactly Florian fell asleep since he still hummed dreamily as if their 'conversation' was continuing. He rolled his eyes at the smaller boy and shifted off of the bed, sighing at the rising sun. He did a quick cavity search of the room, trying to be quiet so Florian wouldn't awaken. When he finally found the book Van had sent him for he tucked it in his clothes and reequipped his mask and glove. His gaze fell on the sleeping boy as he passed on his way to the window. He paused.

"I hate this world and everything in it," he said, internally scorning himself for talking to someone unconscious. But it was the only way he would be able to say something so humiliating out loud. "But I don't hate you. So I don't want you to be part of this world. When Van's plan succeeds… I'll come back for you. Wait for me. We'll leave this world behind together." With that he turned and left without looking back.

Slowly Florian shifted and sat up, staring after the God-General. He smiled, a tiny blush forming on his cheeks. He would wait just like he had always been waiting to meet his friend again even if he didn't entirely understand the meaning behind Sync's promise.

Months had passed and the world, along with the seasons, had gone through many changes. Anise was home and Florian couldn't have been happier. He'd been forced to relinquish her bed back to her but was rewarded with a bed of his own to sleep in. Florian had officially become a member of the family and he had spent much of the last few weeks informing anyone who would give him the time of day about it.

Anise was amused by his enthusiasm but it was hard for her to share it after everything that had happened. She had been aloof when she first returned even though the pigtailed girl put on a bright smile for everyone. Only Florian was fooled by it at first but even he began to realize something painful had happened at Eldrant. He didn't understand other people's emotions very well so he couldn't say anything, but she knew he was worried about her. It was hard not to know when Florian was worried. Anise figured he wasn't old enough yet but one day she would tell him. It wasn't like she was the only one who was apparently keeping secrets. Almost every day she caught him in the Fon Master's room staring out the window expectantly. Whenever she asked he only smiled and told her it was a promise. Odd, but even Florian was entitled to his secrets and she wasn't one to pry.

"Anise, it's time to clean," Florian announced happily, snapping her out of her thoughts. She groaned. His excitement only made it that much more irritating.

"I helped save the world; you'd think they would let me skip on chores…" she grumbled.

"But we'll do it together," Florian said brightly, "So it'll be fun." Anise wanted to argue that _nothing_ could make cleaning her room fun, but she couldn't argue with that smile.

"Whatever," she huffed as she begrudgingly gathered her things. She frowned at the old travel pack which had collected dust. She'd never been able to bring herself to unpack it even long since their journey's end. Any day now she half expected Luke to come bouncing back into her life with a new adventure or emergency. Her bright eyes dimmed. "Luke… You idiot," she mumbled as she grabbed her bag with a sigh and hoisted it on her bed to unpack it.

Florian hummed to himself as he swept the floor awkwardly. Yulia bless him, he tried, but he was just so clumsy sometimes. He was only serving to push the dust around everywhere. Anise suppressed a sigh, realizing she would have to go over it herself later. Right now her most pressing concern was opening her pack. Why had she stuffed it so full? With a growl she braced herself and gave the tie on it a mighty yank. Gels, Lifebottles and Pancea went everywhere. Anise wailed in shock and frustration at the mess she had created.

A loud clatter in the center of her floor was deafening to Florian. He wasn't sure what it was about that particular sound which drew his attention but his eyes magnetically locked on the source.

A yellow, orange decorated mask lay on the ground.

Florian felt as though in that moment his whole world centered on that mask. Confused why Anise would have it, he walked forward and delicately lifted the familiar visor off the ground. He stared long and hard at the mask as if the owner's face might suddenly pop out from behind and surprise him.

"Florian?" Anise's voice was hesitant, almost cautious, "What are you doing?"

"What is this?" Florian asked faintly. He couldn't tare his eyes away from the mask to address her. Anise twisted the end of one of her pony tails uncomfortably, not liking how the possession of a God-General held his attention.

"It… belonged to an enemy," Anise said slowly. Florian's stomach turned to ice.

"An enemy…?"

"Don't worry about it, ok? He's dead so it doesn't matter anymore." Anise reached for the mask and was shocked when Florian yanked it away; flinching back from her as if she'd made some sort of move to attack him. Hairs on the back of her neck stood up at the look he was giving her. It was so foreign on Florian.

His dark green eyes were smoldering as he glared at her.

"Doesn't matter?" he repeated, voice soft but sharp as a knife, "Dead?" Anise felt her insides twist in knots at the accusation in his voice.

"Florian, what's gotten into you?" she objected, voice rising but coming out more distraught than angry like she had hoped. Could Replicas sense each other? How could Florian know? Why would he be this angry even if he did know? Sync was a creep!

"… It doesn't matter," Florian said, throwing her words back at her as he dropped the mask and left. She stared after him, stunned by his sudden anger and even more sudden departure. Anise looked down at the abandoned mask and bit her lip.

Florian's cheeks burned with shame at his anger towards Anise; who had only ever cared about his well being. His throat burned. His lungs burned. Everything burned as if he was back in that volcano again. Tears slipped down his cheeks and he didn't bother to hold them back no matter who saw him or what they thought.

Number Five would never move again.

* * *

So, another sad ending. I promise not all will end in death/sadness. I probably should have had a break between this chapter and the last one since it was pretty emotional, too. Maybe one day I'll put in a filler chapter. I hope I characterized Sync ok. I'm a little uncertain about his character but that was the best I could do trying to soften it.


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